Schooled 4.0

by Deena Bright

  “Do I know how to drive a boat?” he repeated, laughing.

  “Do you?” I asked again.

  “Nah, but it’ll be fun figuring it out,” he said, cracking up as he leaned over to kiss me on the cheek before getting out of his sleek black sports car.

  Briggs’ “boat man” was one scary-ass piece of work. I wouldn’t buy a boat off of him, rent a boat from him, or take nautical instruction from him. But yet, we were doing just that. He was nearly impossible to understand. It took a lot of self-control from both of us to not lose it, laughing in his face as he ever-so-eloquently butchered the English language.

  Out on the water, before the fireworks started, I felt peaceful and serene, like the day and all the turmoil that accompanied it had vanished. There was something about being with Briggs that could calm even the stickiest situations. The night that I’d walked in on Lauren and Marcus would’ve been unbearable and downright freak-diculous if I hadn’t run into Briggs at the bar. It seemed like he always came along whenever my heart was about to shatter from the explosion of my deteriorating self-esteem.

  “Thank you,” I said, sipping my beer, looking out at the water.

  “For what?” he asked from the captain’s chair.

  “For this. For bringing me out here,” I responded. “For everything.”

  “You know Janelle, I’m here,” he said. “I’m here for anything… not just sex and fun.”

  I laughed. “What does that even mean?”

  “It means I know you’ve got a lot on your mind,” he explained. “You can talk to me. I do have somewhat of a brain… and I’m a pretty good listener if I do say so myself.” He turned off the motor. “I am going to be a sports psychologist… on TV.”

  Briggs walked to the back of the boat. I would call it the starboard, bow, or the aft, but I wouldn’t know what the fuck I was talking about. Leo would. He knew boats and boat anatomy. Does a boat have an anatomy? Probably not. Anyway, I digress.

  Briggs went to the back of the boat and retrieved the anchor from some hideaway compartment, heaving the anchor forcefully into the lake. Once the anchor hitched itself to the bottom of the lake, he climbed over the seats and sat next to me on the front of the boat.

  “Tell me what happened today,” he coaxed. “I know something went on with Cling at his house… just tell me. You’ve been a million miles away all night.”

  Looking into his sincere blue eyes, I knew I could talk to him, tell him anything. I didn’t know where things where headed with Briggs Alexander and me, but I did know one thing: I trusted him and relied on him. Above all else, he was quickly and surely becoming a lot more than my friend.

  After I relayed the entire story to him, leaving nothing out, he sat for a while in total silence, staring at the water until he finally said, “That fucking blows. No one should have to deal with that shit. I don’t know what I’d do if anything ever happened to Tate.”

  “I know… and he never mentioned it once,” I said. “I feel awful… about everything.”

  “I can’t believe he got you that bracelet. I kind of remember that,” he said. “Man, Leo Cling’s got it bad for you, Janelle.” I nodded, resting my head on his shoulder, as he held me closer to him.

  Briggs and I spent the rest of the time talking about Leo and his family, waiting for the fireworks to begin. I downed four very cold and refreshing beers as Briggs drank bottled water, not wanting to impair his very new boat-driving ability. Once the fireworks started, I was quite chilly and very buzzed, feeling much happier and lighter.

  Briggs laid a blanket down on the front of the boat and enveloped me in his arms as we watched the fireworks shoot out over the lake, illuminating the sky in beautiful hues of pink, red, purple, green, and blue.

  “My family has names for each type of firework,” he announced. “My dad named them one summer, and ever since then, we still call them the same thing.”

  “Alright, so what’s that called?” I asked, pointing at the sky.

  “Easy, that’s a ‘Rain Down,’ because it looks like rain coming down,” he said with authority. His “rain down” firework always looked like a Weeping Willow tree to me. “That one was a ‘Sizzle McGhee,’ because it sizzles and swerves like a snake,” he smiled, watching my reaction. “And that one there—that’s a ‘Flashy Finnicum,’ because it flickers a bit before going out.” The rest of the night went on with Briggs clueing me in on every Alexander-named firework and with me getting into his names and even further into him.

  I would like to say that out of respect for Leo and Megan and for the bracelet that Leo gave me so long ago that I didn’t kiss Briggs all night. I would like to say that I didn’t touch him romantically or sexually. I would like to say that I didn’t make love to him on that boat, overlooking the lake with fireworks bursting over our heads. I would like to say that I had more self-control and respect for the day’s events than that. But, I couldn’t say that. I’d be lying. I would like to say that I did not fall completely in love with Briggs Alexander that night, but I would again be lying if I did.

  JOCELYN AND I met for lunch, while Rick stayed home with the kids. He owed it to her since she hosted the soccer team party that he coached. He knew better than to even consider going into work on a day after she planned and handled a party of 50. Rick was smart enough to take Thursday and Friday as vacation days. Therefore, Jocelyn had time to meet for lunch and a quick pedicure. I used to make fun of their marriage, claiming that they were too boring and comfortable. However, they understand marriage, had it down to a well-oiled machine. They had the perfect amount of love, chemistry, respect, and honesty. I could’ve learned a lot from them if I would’ve known I should’ve been taking lessons.

  “Poor Leo,” Jocelyn said, shaking her head. “I cannot imagine what he must be going through.” Jocelyn had a bleeding heart. It bled for anyone or anything that suffered. I knew that once she heard about Megan that she’d have a hard time thinking about anything else for a while. “I’m going to send his mom some pastries and flowers,” she stated. “So sad.”

  We talked endlessly through lunch and the pedicure about Leo, Megan, and the bracelet. “Well kid,” she said, “I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes. You know one of these guys is going to get hurt and neither one deserves it.”

  “I know Joz. I know.” I said, agreeing with her for eleven-hundredth time. “Hypothetically speaking, what if I told you that I thought I was falling in love with Briggs?” I asked.

  “I would tell you that you’re 50% accurate,” she stated.

  “Huh? I don’t get it. What do you mean?” I asked, confused. “You think I’m only half falling in love with him?”

  “No, I most certainly think that you’re in love with Briggs,” she declared. “But I think you’re in love with Leo, too.”

  “But how? How can I possibly be in love with two guys at the same time—especially since my marriage hasn’t even ended yet? It’s impossible if it’s true love.” I said.

  “I don’t think that’s true. I have four kids. I love them all. Who’s to say that a woman can’t be in love with two men at the same time?” she asked rhetorically. “I think it’s quite possible, because that’s exactly what’s happening.”

  AFTER OUR LUNCH and pedicure, Jocelyn dropped me off at the pool house. I decided that I needed a little alone time, mindless alone time. I grabbed my book and went out to the pool. I got my favorite raft and floated out to the middle of the pool, only after I slathered my body in a Leo-approved, Megan-inspired, amount of sunscreen.

  Just as I was getting fully absorbed into the humorous prose of Lisa Lutz, I heard “Miss Garrity, can I talk to you?”

  Looking up from my book, I could only make out a silhouette of a figure standing at the edge of the pool. Shading my eyes from the glare of the sun, I realized Vince was on my property, and nobody was home today, other than me.

  “Vince. Get out!” I yelled, staying on my raft in the middle of the pool. He was fully clothed. I pr
ayed that he wasn’t going to try anything with me again, especially if I was floating in the middle of the water.

  “Please. I’m sorry. I just want to talk,” he said, raising his hands in innocent surrender. “You can stay there. I’ll stand right here.”

  “Vince what? What do you want?” I asked through gritted teeth, glaring at him.

  “I just want to talk, seriously, that’s it,” he said.

  “So talk,” I said.

  “Your ex came to see me. He offered me money,” he explained.

  “Go on.”

  “He said that if I told the school that you hit on me when I was still a student, he’d pay me 10 grand,” he admitted.

  “And you said…” I urged him to continue.

  “I told him to go fuck himself,” Vince stated proudly.

  “Okay, so what? Why’re you here?” I asked. “Am I supposed to give you money now?”

  “No, Miss G., I don’t want your money,” Vince said, looking down at his feet.

  “Then what do you want, Vince?”

  “A favor.”

  “You’re here, because you think I owe you some sort of favor for not lying?” I asked.

  “Nah, I know you don’t owe me shit, but I was hoping you’d help me out,” he said.

  “Help you with what?”

  “Briggs. He won’t talk to me,” Vince said softly. “He was my best friend before I fucked up. He won’t listen to me. He’ll listen to you.”

  “So you came here to see if I’d help you get back in Briggs’ good graces?” I couldn’t believe my ears. This guy sabotaged me on social media and now expected me to help him, bail him out of his spat with his friend. People were fucking ridiculous and so out of touch with reality. I couldn’t believe it.

  “Vince, go home. Figure this one out on your own. You got yourself into this mess. Figure your own way out,” I said, looking back down at my book.

  “Yeah… right. Thanks anyway Miss Garrity,” he said, walking away. “I’m real sorry.”

  I spent the rest of my night texting Briggs and Leo and watching television. Neither of them could believe that Vince had stopped over. Leo thought it was important that I forgave Vince and try to help Briggs to forgive him too. Briggs, on the other hand, told me to call the cops the next time Vince came anywhere near me or my house. I had a feeling the Briggs and Vince friendship was about as solid as the Megan and Janelle friendship.

  Briggs was on “the schedule” for the next day, so I decided to just stay in for the night. Char had plans anyway, probably with her hookup from Lavery’s. Leo’s sister was still in town, and I wouldn’t see him until Saturday. Briggs wouldn’t tell me what our big plans were, but told me to dress comfortably, but bring something sexy. I had no idea what he had in store. I just knew that he was picking me up at 10:00 a.m. and that I wouldn’t be back home until around midnight or 1:00 a.m. The suspense was killing me.

  HEY, IT’S BRIGGS here. Reader, I’m talking to you. Are you listening? Cool, now you’re listening. I hate those fucking books that change narrators, and you never see it coming. I read one of those once, and I was all kinds of fucked up.

  Okay, so I didn’t really read it. I started to, and it sucked. It was a book. I ended up reading the Spark Notes and renting the movie. Fine, I didn’t read the Spark Notes either. Those things are just as long as the God damn book.

  I gotta say, I hate the way this author chick is making me look. She’s making me out to be some dumb asshole. Fuck her. I’m about to graduate from college for Fuck’s sake—from THE Ohio State University—do you know how hard it is to get in there these days? I’m not saying I got in with my high IQ and all that shit. But I am saying that I’m going to finish and graduate with a degree. People didn’t see that shit coming. I’m no fucking moron.

  So, I don’t like to read; who cares? So sue me. I just don’t want to sit around and read books about people doing shit that I should be doing. I want to be the one doing it—not reading about it. What’s wrong with that? I do play a lot of Madden and watch a lot of Duck Dynasty, but that doesn’t make me dumb. Just because Cling sits around and reads doesn’t make him a better guy than me, a better date, or more worthy of Janelle. I’ve got a lot to offer.

  Anyway, this is my story, my turn to tell you about my date with Janelle. This is the one opportunity I get to make y’all realize that I’m the one for her. I really am. I’m going to start by saying that she looked as hot as shit. I could’ve fucked her right on her front lawn the second I saw her, but she was talking to Jasper when I pulled up. Man, that dude’s got some bank. He’s one of those guys that just by looking at him, you know he’s got money. I’m going to look like that someday. Soon actually.

  When Janelle got into the car, her shorts rode up on her thighs, and I could hardly concentrate on driving. She’s got the smoothest fucking legs; they feel like, I don’t know, soft. They’re always so shiny too, like she just rubbed lotion or oil on them or something. Well, I was staring so long at her legs and thinking about her thighs that I started to get hard and then swerved and almost hit some douchebag riding a bike. A fucking bike! Get a car, asshole.

  “Briggs, are you okay?” she asked me.

  I was so embarrassed by the fact that I almost ran some dick over, I just said, “Yeah, I’m just horny.” Why the fuck would I say that? She just laughed like it was the most normal thing I could say. “Are you excited?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “Yeah, but I don’t know where we’re going,” she said, looking over at me with her big green eyes and beautiful smile.

  Fuck, I was getting hard again. You guys don’t get it. This woman, this same woman has been getting me hard for years now. Do you have any idea how many nights I jacked off to her picture in the yearbook? Sometimes when I thought about the fact that she was seeing me, dating me, fucking me, whatever you call it, I had to remind myself that this wasn’t some high school boy fantasy and this was the real deal. I made a pact with myself that I was not going to fuck this up. I am not going to fuck this up. It’s my new mantra. Don’t fuck this up. Don’t fuck this up. Don’t fuck this up.

  “It’s a surprise. You picked the right clothes for it too,” I said, loving what she had on. She was wearing running shorts, tennis shoes, and a tight t-shirt that made her tits look incredible. She had all of her hair back in a ponytail. Janelle looked good enough to eat, and I planned to do just that. A couple times today. I love the whole athletic girl look. Chicks try so hard to look hot and sexy, but they’re really just the most fucking fuckable when they’re themselves.

  Just as I was about to get on the highway, my phone rang. I looked down. It was a call I needed to take, but one I necessarily didn’t want to take with Janelle in the car. I let it go to voicemail as my hands gripped the steering wheel harder, turning my knuckles white as I did so. Then, my phone alerted me to a text message and to another.

  “Aren’t you going to get that? Someone, other than me, obviously wants you,” she smiled teasingly at me.

  I looked at the messages, slowing down considerably. After reading the third one that came in, I said, “Sorry, we’ve got to detour.” I didn’t want to get Janelle into my personal shit, but I had to handle some stuff.

  I made an illegal U-turn, speeding up after the turn. “Briggs? What’s going on? Where are we going?” she asked, sitting up, looking around.

  “To my house… I’ve got to take care of something,” I said, feeling the anger overtaking me. I was going to fucking kill my brother.

  We pulled up to my house. My parents were gone, out of town for the Fourth. I knew better than to think I could trust Tate alone for the day. I’d only been gone for 30 minutes. “Wait here,” I instructed, as I got out of the car, leaving it running to let her know that I wouldn’t be long.

  I barged into the house and all eyes were on me. “Get the fuck out now!” I screamed, as five thug-ass guys bolted toward the door. Tate had pot and coke laid out on the coffee table with some s
ort of fucking scale and money everywhere. “Take your money with you!” I belted as I picked it up and threw it out the door. The losers all scrambled to get their money.

  “Fuck you, Briggs,” Tate said, coming straight at me. I picked up as much shit as I could off the table and sprinted toward the bathroom, scaling right over the couch. I slammed and locked the door and started flushing everything I could find.

  As Tate was banging on the door, he repeated over and over, “You don’t control me. You can’t control me. I’ll fucking kill you, bro.” The screaming and banging went on the entire time I was shoving shit down the toilet.

  Then, it was silent, which stopped me, making me wonder what he was doing. I flushed the last bit of what I’d grabbed and took a few breaths when I heard him say, “Hey Mrs. Flowers.”

  Flowers?

  Feeling my veins turn to ice, I opened the door and stared straight into the faces of Janelle Garrity and Tate Alexander.

  Then Tate continued, “So it is true, you like extra dark meat?” he asked, walking toward her. I could tell at that moment that he wasn’t just dealing, he was on something too. Mother fucker. He walked over to Janelle and circled her like prey, flipping her ponytail, like some jackass son-of-a- bitch. That was all it took.

  I was on him in seconds, and his body was against the wall, with his throat in my hand. “Listen here you little fucker, I will fuck you up so badly, you’ll wish you’d never been born.” I threatened.

  “Too late,” he gasped. “Way too late.”

  “Briggs! Let him go,” Janelle yelled. “Let him go… RIGHT now!” I looked over at her. Her eyes were watery and pleading with me. I couldn’t resist her, couldn’t deny her anything. Releasing my grip on him, Tate shoved me back.

  I grabbed him again, but Janelle moved my hand. “Stop honey, don’t,” was all she said. I stepped back, letting him have room.

  “Why the fuck did you bust in here?” Tate asked, glaring at me. “I just lost two grand, thanks to you.”