Before the evening was out, we were both getting text messages from people on our phones about how cool it was that we were out on the town and how everyone wished they were us. It was late and I was starting to get tired, and I looked up from the screen on my phone at Chelsea. Yes, this girl was hot. No girl I knew was as sexy as she was—except, maybe, for Taylor. But here I was, sitting across the table from her. Yet it was like she was a million miles away. We’d both been sitting there for over a half-hour, communicating with people who weren’t here and it was like we were not really with each other. How crazy is that?
That’s when I sent a text to Kayla: HOW R U?
A few seconds passed and she was there: I’M OK. HOWZ UR DATE W/ CHELSEA? :(
Yeah, I guess everyone knew. But it was all a bit of a sham. There was no real chemistry between Chelsea and me. ok, I answered.
JUST OKAY?
YUP, NOTHING SPECIAL.
:), was her reply.
Taylor was trying to get through to talk to me on my cell but I didn’t answer. It was too hard to hear and I didn’t want to take any more advice from Taylor right now. Or maybe she was jealous. It was just all too weird.
When Chelsea let out an exasperated exhale at the next call coming in, I said, “Let’s call it a night.” I felt exhausted.
She nodded. I took her hand and led her to the door. A guy who had been gawking at her asked her if she would dance with him, but she said no. He gave me a dirty look and I gave him the unaffected, aloof, cool look Taylor had coached me on so well. It seemed to do the job. As we walked to the car, Chelsea leaned slightly onto me and she smiled. I liked the way I felt just then. A beautiful girl on my arm, out late at night downtown. The world was an amazing place.
We passed a couple of drunken guys taking a piss against the window of a Gap store. They said something rude to Chelsea but we kept on walking. I was not in knight-in-shining-armor mode nor was I meant to be that. I would just use the tools Taylor had taught me and they would serve me well. Cool. Aloof. Unaffected. Let the boys piss on the windows and be a little vulgar around my girl. Who cares?
I should have been concerned about Chelsea driving but I wasn’t. She had a hard time getting the car out of the parking space but drove slowly and carefully, if a bit erratically, back to her house, all the while telling me how much she liked me and that I was “different” from the rest. I think she meant that I wasn’t constantly pawing at her body, although the temptation was certainly there. I wasn’t sure why we were in her driveway and not mine when she turned off the car.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“My parents are gone for the weekend. You can stay.”
A flood of images went through my head. Wild images. But then I discovered I was shaking my head no. “I gotta get up early in the morning. Something I promised.”
“Please?” she cooed so softly and in such a sexy voice that I almost gave in.
“No,” I said. “Sorry. It’s important. I can walk home from here. Let me get you to your door.”
What a gentleman I’d become. It shocked even me. But when I got Chelsea to her door and kissed her, she went playfully aggressive and tried to drag me into her house. I resisted as best I could, and eventually said goodbye and made her close the door.
It wasn’t a long walk to my house but my mind was racing the whole while. I was both excited and confused. Sure, I’d just gone along for the ride tonight. I had the pretty girl, had the drinks, bribed our way into a club, sat back as the world watched us from afar as if we were celebrities, had the girl offer to have me stay the night. Who was writing this movie script? Whoever it was, I sure didn’t want them to stop.
There were voices shouting inside my brain, telling me that I had arrived. It was all good. It was time to move forward. Take charge of my life. I was eighteen, not thirteen. Every part of that seemed exhilarating, but also somewhat frightening.
When I stopped at the big maple tree in front of my house and looked at the streetlight through the branches, I was feeling a confidence I had never felt before.
But by the time I quietly entered my old house and walked up the creaky stairs to my bedroom and heard my mother’s voice, I lost every ounce of that confidence. She was standing in the doorway of her bedroom and had heard me come in. “Everything okay, Brandy?” She hadn’t called me that since I was a kid.
“Yeah, Mom. It’s all good.”
“How was your date?”
“It was really nice,” I said nonchalantly and then slipped into my room and fell into bed.
chaptertwentyfour
On Sunday, I slept in and woke up to find a note on the kitchen table that my parents had gone for a drive. I think I knew what that meant.
I ate a sullen breakfast, went for a walk around the block to get the cobwebs out of my head, and then studied my driver’s manual. None of this seemed very hard. Mostly traffic laws I was already familiar with, and common sense. It wasn’t like that pointless crap they were trying to teach me in school. It got me thinking that pretty soon I’d be able to take the written test. Hell, I could do it this week if I was ready. Then I could drive with anyone who had a license. It was starting to click.
I called Taylor. “What are you doing?”
“It’s called sleeping. Perhaps you’ve heard of it. What time is it?”
“Eleven.”
“I’m surprised you’re up.”
“Yeah. I had fun last night. Get any reports about last night?”
“Reports? Are you kidding? There are photos and videos posted everywhere.”
“Really?”
“Really. It’s like you had a date with Paris Hilton. How’d it go?”
“Went okay, I guess.”
“Looked more than okay. Looked awesome. I’m jealous.”
“You were the one who set me up with Chelsea.”
“Yeah, well, it was like you needed ... um ... training wheels.”
I thought about that for a minute. “I don’t get it.”
“Training wheels. You know.”
“Weird,” was all I could say.
“Someone posted a video of you two leaving the club. You were kind of cool. But Chelsea looked a little wasted. The video shows you getting in her car and driving away.”
That didn’t sound good. “Who took it?”
“Dunno. Just some random person. That’s the way it works if you’re the center of attention. But you definitely seemed to have risen to the occasion. Did you sleep with her?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
I paused. “I’m not sure.” I didn’t want to admit that I was a virgin. And I really wasn’t sure why I didn’t take Chelsea up on her offer.
“Anyway, that’s probably a good thing,” Taylor said matter-of-factly. She yawned. “So, what’s on your mind that’s so important you felt obliged to wake me up?”
“I need a car,” I said. “You offered to help me pick out a car.”
“Oh, so we’re talking about shopping here.” Now she seemed even more animated than usual.
“Well, I think I can ace this written exam and be on the road right away if I have someone to ride shotgun.”
“That would be me. Give me an hour and I’ll be over.”
It took an hour and a half, but it gave me time to check out my presence on the Internet. I hadn’t done a Google search on my name since the early days of winning the lottery. It was just too weird what people had to say. But I thought I’d see what was out there. In no time at all, I discovered Chelsea’s phone photos, video clips taken by strangers in the club, and those clips of us outside on the street and driving away. All very public. And there were postings of people who had opinions on them and on me. Hot guy, was my favorite, posted by some girl. But there were others: He looks gay, was one. What an asshole, was another.
<
br /> Funny how the negative ones stuck in my mind and the positive ones didn’t. In the end, I began to think I might be better off not Googling myself. Let the world think what it wants to think. All those strangers out there didn’t really know a damn thing about me.
I heard Taylor’s car, then her car horn. Taylor wasn’t the type to get out of the car and knock on the door. No way.
When I got in her car, she grabbed my head with both hands and gently but comically knocked it against hers. With her face close up to mine, she said, “You are coming along nicely,” and then she laughed.
Once I’d recovered from that close encounter and buckled my seatbelt, I said, “I thought we’d go down to the car lot. It’s Sunday and no one is there. You help me pick out the right car and then by tomorrow it will be mine.”
Taylor frowned and then sighed. “I’m disappointed in you,” she said, ever so seriously.
“Why?” I asked. I didn’t get it.
“Your father sells used cars. You, Marlon Brando, need a new car. An expensive new car. Pick a letter.”
“A,” I said.
“A is no good.”
“B.”
“B is better,” and she hit the gas as we drove off down the street.
The BMW dealer was open on Sunday, and the salesman, a very sophisticated man wearing a dark suit, seemed to recognize Taylor. At first, I was back to being invisible, until Taylor explained who I was and why we were there.
In no time at all, we were ushered into a dark blue car.
“Take it for a spin,” the man said. “Keep it as long as you like.”
And then we were back on the road. Taylor drove for a half-hour until we were out of town and then she stopped by a field with horses. “Now it’s your turn.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready for this. And you know I don’t have a license.”
“Believe me, you’re ready.”
When I got out, I suddenly recognized where we were. I looked east and could see the tree. The tree I had climbed with Kayla. The one I’d fallen out of and nearly died. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“Yes,” she said emphatically. “It’s an automatic. No big deal.”
And it wasn’t a big deal. I drove.
There were no other cars around and, at first, I was very cautious, but then I speeded up a bit and, before long, it was like I’d been driving all my life. It seemed so natural. Why had I been holding back on getting my license for so long?
The guy in the suit walked out to greet us when we returned.
Before he could say a word, Taylor said, “We’ll take it.”
The man smiled and bowed like in an old movie. Inside his office, I wrote out a check for the entire amount and handed it to him. “I’ll be back for the car later in the week,” I said.
As we drove off, Taylor explained that her father bought all his cars there and that it would just be a matter of them cashing the check and then some paperwork. “Nothing to concern you,” she said. “What day you gonna take the test?”
“Thursday,” I answered. “I’ll be ready by then.” I heard the sound of my own voice and was shocked at the confidence.
chaptertwentyfive
My parents were home by the time I returned. They were in the living room, sitting on the new furniture and looking at sections of the Sunday paper.
“Out having fun with your friends?” my mom asked, as if I was still a little kid out on his bicycle, riding around the block.
“Something like that.” I sensed a tension in the room.
My dad smiled the car salesman smile. “Brandon,” he began. “Your mother and I found the home of our dreams.”
I guess I’d seen that coming. But, somehow, I had hoped this moment was going to be a long way off. And I knew my father. If he made his mind up that it was the dream home, he wouldn’t back off. “You went to see it, right?”
“It’s perfect.”
I didn’t like where this was headed at all. This totally sucked. “Two-car garage, right?”
My dad nodded.
“Pool?”
“In-ground. It’s beautiful,” my mom said.
“We put in an offer,” Dad added right away.
Right around then, my day went immediately to crap. “What does that mean?”
“If the owners accept our offer, the place is ours. You won’t believe the size of the bedrooms. There’s even one with a fireplace. If you want that one, it’s yours.”
I was really pissed now. Something about the fireplace really nailed it. “I don’t want a freaking fireplace in my bedroom,” I said. And there was so much more to say but, instead, I just stared at my dad and then looked at my mom like she had betrayed me.
And I tromped off to my room, feeling like they’d both abandoned me. Right then, I wished I’d never won the money. I wanted my old life back.
There were family discussions that week and attempts to make everything okay. My mom did a lot of crying. My dad got more stubborn, saying that we were all definitely going to move and that I was too young to understand. I was accused of being selfish and immature. And maybe that was because I was selfish and immature. But it was my life, too.
I went to work on Monday and Tuesday and tried to avoid dealing with my father, but it wasn’t working. Late Tuesday afternoon, he watched me put in a lackadaisical performance of trying to sell a red Mustang to a young accountant, and then he blew up at me.
“Brandon, you didn’t even try. That guy wanted that car. All you had to do was tell him what he wanted to hear. It was a piece of cake. Snap out of this. Your mother and I want that house. The bank has already approved the mortgage. It’s a done deal. I’m getting tired of putting up with your crap.”
So it had finally come to this. “So what are you going to do? Fire me?”
He fumed but didn’t say anything at first. “You were never like this before,” he said, breathing heavily. “Drop the damn attitude. I’m not gonna take any more of it.”
My dad was pulling one of his famous power trips on me. But it wasn’t going to work this time. I’d had enough. “I quit,” I said. “I’m not going to sell any more cars. And I hate the fact you’re going to sell our house—the home where I grew up. And I hate the fact that you didn’t take me into consideration about moving.”
As I was about to leave the office, I stopped. I wanted to say something to hurt him. “Oh, and one more thing. I’m getting my driver’s license after all. And I’ve already bought my first car. And it sure as hell wasn’t from here.”
And with that I left the office. When I was out by the highway, my father screamed something at me, but I couldn’t make out the words and I just kept walking. It took me a while to figure out where I was going. I checked my watch: 4 PM. Yeah, she’d be home.
Kayla’s mother answered the door and I asked if Kayla was home.
“She’s in her room,” her mom said, looking really happy to see me. “Why don’t you go up and knock.”
I did. Kayla, was happy to see me. The shades were down on her windows and it was rather dark in her room. “Hey,” I said.
“Hey.”
“You busy?”
“Not really,” she said. “Just watching a documentary on the Internet.”
“Is it any good?”
“Yeah. It’s about quirky people who live and work in a scientific research station in Antarctica. But I can watch it later.”
“Antarctica, huh?” Kayla would watch endless documentaries about just about anything to do with science or nature or space. She’d seen every documentary ever made about ants or snakes or fish.
“I’d like to live there,” she said. And she was serious.
“Isn’t it, like, really cold and really dark most of the time in the winter?”
“Yeah, but they have penguins
there.” As if that made all the dark and cold okay.
“Right, penguins.”
“Brandon, what’s wrong?”
I explained about the blowup I had with my father.
“You think they’re really going to go through with it?”
“I think they already have,” I said. “We’re moving.”
“But you don’t want to move.”
“Looks like I don’t have much choice.”
Kayla took off her glasses and polished them. I hadn’t seen her without the glasses in quite a while. I’d known her for such a long time, and I can’t say I’d noticed before how much she had changed. She had a kind of round, pretty face but she didn’t look as heavy as I remembered.
“You lost some weight?” I asked.
“Yeah. A bit. I don’t eat so much junk food and I stay in my room sometimes and exercise for an hour or so at a time.”
“But you spend way too much time alone in your room here, don’t you?”
“I like it here,” she said, putting her glasses back on. That totally transformed her back into the geek that everyone thought she was.
“Kayla, what am I going to do?”
“I don’t know. Would it really be that bad to move with your parents to this new house?”
“Yeah,” I said. “It would really be bad. I’ve lived my whole life in the house that I know and love. I can’t imagine another family living there.”
“That sucks,” she said.
“But I don’t want to end up hating my parents, and I don’t want my dad pissed off at me for the rest of my life. He wrote off his own father, I told you that. I never get to see my only living grandparent.”
“You gonna go back to work tomorrow?”
“No. I knew that wasn’t going to last. I just did it to try to keep my old man happy. But nothing I could do there is good enough.”
Dumb Luck Page 11