HOT as F*CK

by Scott Hildreth

  “I’d love to,” she responded.

  “Great. Well, I’ve got to get to work now, Sir,” I said as I extended my hand toward her father.

  He stood from his chair and shook my hand.

  I nodded my head toward Katie and grinned. “Katie.”

  She smiled in return and rolled her eyes.

  I turned toward her father and smiled. “I’ll let myself out, Sir.”

  As I walked to the door, I grinned at the thought of starting over. Potentially developing a long term relationship and maybe even having a family. As I opened the door, I heard Katie’s father yell.

  “Alec?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I responded over my shoulder.

  “Welcome to the family,” he yelled.

  Somewhat premature, Sir, but I’ll accept it.

  I opened the door and stepped onto the porch. As I pulled the door closed, I stuck my head into the opening between the door and the frame.

  “Thank you, Sir,” I responded.

  I won’t disappoint you.

  Chapter Two Hundred Fifty-Nine

  Summer 2014, Austin, Texas, USA

  People often described me as different, and I can’t say that I would argue with them. I didn’t march to the beat of a different drummer, I marched to the beat of my own drummer. Everything I did, I did for a reason; and if I was doing it, I was exceptional at it. I didn’t attempt things I wasn’t able to succeed at, and although I would consider myself to be an open-minded man, I wasn’t open to new things without a reasonable amount of consideration in advance.

  My madness had meaning.

  Always.

  “This is the coolest date ever,” she said as she shouldered the water-powered rifle.

  “You should just give up,” I said with a laugh. “That stuffed cat is ugly anyway.”

  “That stuffed cat’s name is Winky. Pardon my French, but that son-of-a-bitch is mine,” she growled as she nodded her head toward the man in charge of the game.

  In my travels on my motorcycle a few days prior, I had found a carnival a few miles south of the city, and decided it would be the first event of the night for our date. Once we were in the gate, our first stop wasn’t a ride, but a carnival game; and we had been there for almost an hour. The BB gun she was shooting was powered by water, and to win the prize she had to shoot the red star out of the center of a sheet of paper.

  This was her sixth attempt.

  As she nodded her head the man flipped the switch on the timed water pump. As close as I was able to tell, the time allotted was 30 seconds.

  The BB’s spit from the barrel of the rifle toward the target like rounds from the USMC Squad Automatic Weapon. With great form, one hell of a cute pair of jeans, and a never-say-die attitude, she sprayed the target until the buzzer went off.

  The man retrieved the target and handed it to her without looking as if he already knew she hadn’t won the prize.

  “Sorry,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Looks like this isn’t your ball of wax.”

  She glanced at the target. A small corner of the red star remained on the paper, one shot away from being eliminated. She shook her head and tossed the target beside the others.

  “According to who?” She snapped back. “The sights on this piece of shit are off. I’ve about got it figured out, let’s go again.”

  “You want a different rifle?” he asked, waving toward the five other unoccupied stalls.

  “No,” she said sarcastically. “I already said I have this one figured out.”

  “Again,” she said as she nodded her head toward the gallery.

  He placed another target on the chain, secured it in place, and widened his eyes comically. “Ready?”

  She nodded her head. “Yep.”

  He flipped the switch.

  Again, she sprayed the target with B.B.s as fast as she was able. I stood and admired her choice of jeans, turquoise sneakers, and well-fitted top she wore, but above all, I admired her devotion. As the buzzer sounded, she slammed the rifle down on the edge of the counter and pointed at the target.

  “Let’s see that one,” she said, wagging her finger toward the target as she spoke.

  He reeled the target to the end of the chain and pulled it from the metal clip.

  “Sorry,” he said as he handed her the target.

  She studied the target at length. “Sorry what? Sorry you’ve got to give me the cat?”

  She handed him the target. “Have another look, Buddy.”

  I raised my hand to my mouth and tried to cover the grin on my face. It was apparent, even from where I was standing, that she had won the prize. As she stood on her tip-toes and eyed the prize, she glanced over her left shoulder and grinned a prideful grin.

  In return, I lowered my hand and revealed my smile.

  He glanced down at the target, raised it over his head, and held it under the dim overhead lights. After a few long seconds of staring at it, he sighed heavily and pinned the target to the wall of fame.

  “Which one?” he asked.

  “You know which one,” she said as she nodded her head toward the stuffed cat.

  He pulled the striped cat from the overhead hook and handed it to her. “One prize per group per night. Have a nice time, folks.”

  She turned to face me, grinned, and shoved the cat into her purse. “That took longer than I expected.”

  “You could have given up an hour ago,” I said as I glanced at my watch.

  “Seriously? And give up? Uhhm, no. I would have stayed there until midnight if I had to,” she said.

  Good to know.

  “Pretty nice shooting, though,” I said.

  “I’m from Texas. Everyone in Texas knows how to shoot,” she said.

  I nodded my head in agreement. Texas was without a doubt the most gun friendly state I had even been in, that was for sure.

  “Your brother teach you?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “No, dad did. Our house used to be on the outside of town when I was a kid. The city kind of grew around us. But yeah, dad taught me. He taught all of us.”

  “Pronto Pups. Holy crap. When was the last time you had a Pronto Pup?” she asked as she pointed to the hot dog stand on our right.

  “Easy. Never,” I said.

  “You’ve never had a Pronto Pup?” she asked.

  “Nope.”

  “It’s a banquet on a stick,” she said, quoting from memory what was painted on the wooden sign displayed over the wooden structure.

  “Not a part of your diet?” she asked.

  I chuckled. “Not exactly.”

  “Two Pronto Pups, please,” she said to the attendant.

  As he produced the two hot dogs on sticks, I reached for my wallet. She shook her head, reached in her purse, and paid for the hot dogs.

  “My treat. Your first, and probably last, Pronto Pup,” she said as she handed me one of the oversized corn dogs.

  I held the stick in my hand and stared down at the glob of fried cornmeal batter.

  “Mustard. You’ve got to put mustard on it,” she said as she squirted mustard along the length of the dog.

  I leaned to the side and did the same. In unison, we bit into our dogs, each widening our eyes toward the other as we attempted to fit the oversized Pup into our mouth. As I continued to eat the World Famous Since 1947 carnival favorite, I was slightly disappointed.

  Not in the Pronto Pup – because it was actually quite good – but because I knew that I was adamant in maintaining my diet, and realized this would likely be not only the first time – but the last time – I would ever eat one of the tasty treats. As I finished the snack and stared down at the stick – making sure there was no remaining fried batter to gnaw off – I paused and glanced up at Katie.

  With the sides of her mouth covered in mustard and her mouth curled into a smile, she stood and stared at me.

  “You’ve got mustard on your mouth,” I said.

  “And you’ve got nice teeth,” s
he said.

  I reached beside the condiments, grabbed a few napkins, and handed her one. “Thank you. I try to take care of myself, teeth included.”

  “Well, it shows. I’m guessing you liked it?” she asked as she tossed her stick and the mustard-covered napkin in the trash.

  “It was actually pretty good,” I admitted.

  “Stick around,” she said. “I’ll change your mind on a lot of things.”

  As much as I hated the thought of change in my life, I hoped she was right.

  “What’s next?” she asked.

  “Ferris wheel,” I said.

  She grabbed her stomach. “Oh God.”

  “What?” I asked as I walked to her side.

  “Those things kind of make me queasy,” she said.

  “So…”

  “No,” she said. “I’ll do it. We’ll see how it goes. It’s been a long time.”

  A few minutes later, we were atop the Ferris wheel, sitting stationary, gazing back into the city we had driven from earlier.

  “I haven’t seen the city from this perspective. It looks peaceful and small,” she said.

  “That’s one of the reasons I like these things,” I said.

  She glanced over her shoulder. Although it was pitch black, and I was able to see very little, her blue eyes stood out in clear contrast to her tanned skin. After a few seconds of staring at each other silently, she grinned. “Why?”

  I felt like I had been awoken from a dream, and couldn’t immediately remember what we were talking about. I shook my head, feeling somewhat foolish for losing my train of thought.

  “Why do you like them?” she asked.

  I pried my eyes from hers and gazed out over the city as the wheel slowly began to turn, lowering us to our next stop. The city of almost 2,000,000 people seemed to be much smaller than the city of 400,000 I had recently moved from. The speeding traffic, busy highways, and overcrowded restaurants and bars were hidden by the distance, making the city seem rather unoccupied and peaceful.

  “Perspective. It lets me see things from a different perspective,” I said as I shifted my eyes to meet hers.

  As she gazed in my direction, waiting for me to continue, she tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder. She was obviously more comfortable on the ride than she expected she would be. After gazing over her shoulder for a moment, she turned to face me again, and I continued.

  “It’s all too easy to be stuck in a certain mindset about something, and often we can’t convince ourselves to maintain an open mind. This lets me see the exact same thing from a different vantage point. It doesn’t change anything; it just provides a different point of view. It’s a great reminder to maintain an open mind,” I said.

  “I like that. And, I like you. Let’s do this again,” she said.

  “The Ferris wheel?” I asked.

  She shook her head and grinned.

  “No, this,” she said as she waved her hand in a circle over her head. “Do something together.”

  And I couldn’t have agreed with her more.

  Chapter Two Hundred Sixty

  Summer 2014, Austin, Texas, USA

  My Saturdays during the summer months had been spent doing whatever the weather permitted, but almost always it was something outside. Now, the only difference was that Katie was present. My time with her was something I enjoyed immensely, and it didn’t seem to matter what it was we were doing, I found it to be pleasant.

  I quickly realized not only was she different than Suzanne, but that I found pleasure in doing things with her I would have never considered with Suzanne. After considerable thought, it was clear to me that what little time I spent with Suzanne was done more out of a feeling of necessity than out of desire.

  I spent time with her because she was my wife.

  Being with Katie wasn’t something that was expected of me, but it was exactly what I wanted.

  “Did you see that movie with Josh Brolin? The one where he found the case full of money?” she asked.

  We were hiking along the Colorado River northwest of the city, and the scenery was beautiful. The river had etched its way through the terrain hundreds of years before we arrived, through the solid rock formations, leaving a sheer rock cliff up one side of the river bank, and a shallow berm on the other. Both sides were lined with trees, rocks, and crevices that made the river perfect for hiking.

  I stepped over a large rock, stopped, and responded to what she had asked me.

  “I haven’t seen a lot of movies, except the recent ones. I’ve got about twelve years of catching up to do. When did it come out?” I asked.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, maybe like six years ago. Dad has it on DVD.”

  “What’s it about?” I asked.

  Dressed in canvas shorts, hiking boots, and a loose-fitting tee shirt, she sat down on a rock ten feet away from where I stood. I stepped back and sat down on the one I had just stepped over. As she situated herself on the rock, I pulled off my pack, set it to the side, and pulled out a bottle of water.

  “Drink?” I asked.

  “Sure,” she said.

  I tossed the bottle into the air, and wondered as it began to fall if she was going to catch it or drop it. As it fell in the space in front of her, she reached out and caught it one-handed.

  “Impressive catch,” I said.

  “Thanks. It’s brutal out here, and I wanted a drink,” she said as she wiped her brow.

  “That it is,” I said.

  It was late in the summer, but unseasonably warm. I had yet to spend an entire summer in Austin, but from what I could see it was considerably warmer than Wichita. I gazed over my left shoulder and toward the drop-off to the river, admiring the deep blue color of the water.

  “Here,” she said as she tossed the bottle of water in my direction.

  Instead of tossing the bottle upward, she tossed it directly at me. Trying to catch it would have made a fool of me, so I rolled my shoulders back and let it slap against my chest. As it fell toward the ground, I reached down and caught it in my right hand.

  “Yeah, that’s not going to happen here,” she said with a laugh as she stuck her chest out. “These things are like huge pillows.”

  Katie was tall, probably five-foot ten or a little more, thin, and had an extremely large chest for her size. In believing she was probably self-conscious about her breasts, I had yet to mention them one way or another, and did my utmost not to ever stare. Apparently, however, the size of them was a subject she didn’t mind joking about.

  “Probably not. You’ll need to work on your hand-eye coordination. So what about the movie?” I asked as I unscrewed the lid from the bottle of water.

  “Okay, Josh Brolin. He plays a guy that’s maybe kind of like you. Maybe a little bit. The movie didn’t say, but you get an idea that he’s former military. It starts out, and he’s out in the middle of nowhere hunting. He shoots an antelope, and while he’s tracking it in the scope of his rifle, he scans across a bunch of abandoned trucks and SUVs. And there’s dead guys all laying around,” she paused and stretched her arms wide.

  “So, he searches the vehicles and finds a ton of heroin. He leaves the dead men…wait…all but one is dead. So he leaves the dead men except for one who’s alive, and goes home. The next day he goes back and the almost dead guy is under a tree right beside the place where they were shot. He walks up to the guy, and now he’s dead, just like the others. And, he’s clutching a case with two million bucks in it. So he takes the money and leaves him there.”

  “So, before I tell you the rest of the story, would you take the money?”

  I didn’t even need to think about it. “Nope.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Really?”

  “I live in a black and white world. It’s either right or it’s wrong. That’s stealing. It’s wrong. I guarantee you, that money was intended for someone, and they’d not only want it, but need it. Even if the reason behind it was dope, it’s part of the cycle of li
fe for that group of people. And for that group of people, the money would buy more dope, which would eventually get more bad guys killed, and the cycle would continue until the end. But no, I wouldn’t take it,” I explained.

  “Wow,” she said. “I ask everyone. And so far, everyone I’ve asked would take it.”

  I found it interesting she would ask everyone such a question. Now it was my turn.

  “Would you?” I asked as I held the bottle of water up.

  She shook her head. “Oh hell no.”

  “Hell no on the water or hell no on the money?” I asked.

  “No on the water, and hell no on the money,” she said.

  “Why not?” I asked. “They’re all dead. Dead men don’t talk. It’d change your life.”

  She reached back with both hands and adjusted her ponytail as she glared at me. After shaking her head and satisfying herself it was as she wanted it to be, she responded.

  “Damned right it’d change my life. For the worse. Karma. Or whatever you want to call it. If you do bad stuff, bad things happen to you. If you do good things, good things happen to you. I’m not interested in doing bad, being bad, however you want to look at it,” she said.

  “Good to know,” I said.

  “You know, in Baghdad there were several Marines who happened onto a lot of gold. I mean a lot. So, quite a few of them tried to ship it home in drums and boxes and however they could devise a way they thought would work. And every one of them got caught. Every damned one. And they were all sent to prison. Money makes people greedy. I’d much rather be poor and happy,” I said.

  “Same here,” she said. “I’m glad you said you wouldn’t take the money.”

  “I lead a simple life. You know what? As much as I’ve been through, and as much hatred and killing as I’ve seen, I still live every day happy. Some are tougher than others, but every day above ground is a good day,” I said.

  “I agree,” she said as she stood. “Are you ready?”

  I didn’t have to convince myself I enjoyed my time with Katie. For once, I felt that I was truly where I should be, and I didn’t have to worry about how I acted or reacted to situations. She seemed to accept me as I was, without explanations or excuses. It was refreshing to think a woman was interested enough in who I was to accept me without reservation.