“They were football players and there were three of them,” Billy shot back. “And I think one of them was into his sixth year of high school.”
While they both laughed, the waitress delivered their drinks.
Charlie’s eyes went wide. “Remember Mr. Bulging Eyes?” he asked, taking a sip of his cola.
Billy took a deep breath. “I wish I didn’t,” he said, while his mind raced back to one of the scariest experiences of his short life.
⁕
It was supposed to be a joy ride, an innocent childhood prank, but it turned into a nightmare. They were fourteen years old when they took Charlie’s father’s car. Charlie drove, while Billy and Mark were willing passengers. They headed down the road and took a right toward a private lane that ran the length of the pond. Charlie punched the gas, squealing the tires and throwing up rocks, as he barreled down the narrow lane.
As they turned the car around, they saw that a mob of unhappy neighbors had gathered at the top of the road waiting to greet them.
“Oh crap!” Charlie said, as he drove back slowly to face their jury.
With his heart in his throat, Billy looked at Mark whose face was already bleached white. This is bad, he thought.
When they reached the yelling mob and stopped the car, Charlie cracked the window a few inches. A man with bulging eyes approached and, although his anger was understandable, the rage in his voice seemed incredibly inappropriate. While the boys became terrified, Charlie tried to remain calm.
The man wedged his fingers into the window and told them, “Get out of the car now! We’re going to call the police.”
“Go ahead and call the cops then,” Charlie told the lunatic, “but we’re not getting out of the car.”
“Get out!” the man screamed, while his massive fingers pulled on the window, trying to break it. As Billy recalled, it was like being in a horror movie. And then Charlie stomped on the gas.
Mr. Bulging Eyes never let go and was dragged over several bushes before he was thrown away from the car. Charlie panicked. He took a quick right and started for the man’s backyard. Billy and Mark looked back. By now, Mr. Bulging Eyes was up and running—with the rest of the neighborhood taking chase. “Oh shit!” they screamed.
Charlie kept his foot to the floor when they hit the soft lawn. The car began to sink. Grass and mud kicked up from the rear wheels, as the car began carving a tank trench into the furious man’s yard. Just when it looked like they were goners, the car swayed right, then left, then right again until it bucked itself free. Charlie aimed for the road.
The mob was now screaming for blood. The boys looked back. Mark yelled, “Rock!” He and Billy took cover. A second later, a small boulder crashed through the rear window and landed on the back seat. They looked up. The giant was smiling. He could have competed at shot put in the Olympics, Billy thought.
They got to the end of the road, bailed out of the damaged car and sprinted for home.
For once, their parents’ faces—and the police—seemed like child’s play. They needed protection.
⁕
Billy returned to the present and grinned. “I think Mark crapped his Underoos that day,” he said, wiping his itchy, swollen eyes.
“I think you’re right,” Charlie agreed.
Billy studied his friend’s face. “He didn’t mean anything about that comment, you know…the one he made about your family,” Billy said.
“No shit, Sherlock,” Charlie said. “Mark’s the nicest guy I know.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“But he is, dude.” Charlie’s right eyebrow stood at attention. “Tell me he’s not?”
Billy nodded. “You’re right. That boy’s way ahead of his time.”
Mark never really fit into any one group or category—whether they were jocks, brains, motor heads or theatre rats. Instead, he drifted around, belonging to them all. And no matter where he landed, he proved to be a fiercely loyal friend. He was the earthy-crunchy type—very intelligent but not pretentious. And although he served as the butt of many jokes, it didn’t seem to bother him. He was just comfortable in his own skin.
The waitress delivered their lunches, minus her original smile. As she walked away, Charlie inspected his burger and flipped a few of the orange-colored fries around.
Billy laughed. “And you want to be a professional investigator?” Billy asked, snickering.
“What?” Charlie said. “You’re the one who said she might spit in my food.”
Billy nodded. “Sure, but if I were you I would have checked my drink first,” he said, shrugging. “It seems like the more obvious place to hock a nasty wad of spit.”
Charlie considered it and slowly pushed his drink away from him. “So you’re valeting with me tomorrow night, right?”
Billy nodded. “I told you already; I got your back.”
As the waitress passed their table, Charlie flagged her down. “Excuse me, Miss, but can I please get another drink? I just found something floating in mine.”
She scooped up his glass, looked into it and shook her head again. “Fine,” she said.
The boys ate in silence, exchanging a few grunts and groans as they devoured their last high school lunch together. The waitress delivered the fresh soda. Charlie studied it for a few extended moments before taking a long drink.
Billy laughed. “Feel better, detective?” he asked, filling his mouth with fries.
“I do,” Charlie said, taking another sip.
Before long, Charlie grabbed his midsection and grinned. “This was good,” he said. “I’m glad we came here.”
“Me too,” Billy said.
As the waitress rushed by, she slapped the check onto the table.
Charlie grinned. “I don’t think she likes me,” he said.
“And who could blame her?” Billy said.
Charlie nodded in agreement, but quickly changed the subject. “I don’t think I’m going to miss the lunches at school, that’s for sure.”
“Neither am I,” Billy said and laughed.
Charlie stood, looked at the bill and threw some money onto the table. “I need to go find Bianca,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I have a feeling she’s going to make me pay for this lunch again.” He took one last drink and started for the front door.
Billy nodded, watching his friend scurry out of the restaurant. Billy picked up the bill and added his money to Charlie’s, throwing in a few extra bucks for the poor waitress’ troubles. It isn’t much, he thought, but it’s more than she would have gotten, if Charlie hadn’t run his mouth.
⁕
Charlie had been parking cars as a valet attendant for months and bragged about the job like he’d hit the lottery. “Tons of under-the-table cash to drive every car we could never afford,” he told Billy and Mark. “It’s a dream come true.”
Right away, Charlie showed Billy the ropes. He jumped into the next car that pulled into the lot—a Cadillac—and wheeled it around the corner. As Billy watched—and the car owner disappeared into the nightclub—Charlie tapped the building before backing the Cadillac straight into a chain link fence. He jumped out, smiling. “Make sure you keep ’em parked tight,” he said.
Billy shook his head, thinking, We’re going to get paid to abuse cars?
Billy quickly learned that Charlie hadn’t been lying. This job is a blast. A car pulled up. Billy opened both doors, offered the driver a numbered ticket and then parked the car in the massive lot. There were varied distances from the seats to the steering wheels, and most cars smelled like a mix of doggy bag food, cologne and perfume.
Once a patron left the club, they handed Billy their valet ticket. He ran into the lot, quickly searched out their car and drove it back to them—insuring to keep both doors open. For this alone, the average tip was two to three dollars. The small lot fit better than fifty
cars snugly.
An hour went by when Charlie appeared with a man on his arm. He escorted the staggering man over to Billy and announced, “Mr. Rollins, here, is a customer who’s not too happy about you denting his car. And he wants a few words with you.” Without another word, Charlie turned on his heels and marched off into the shadows.
Instinctively, Billy apologized. “I’m so sorry, sir. Which car is yours?”
The man became enraged, flailing his arms and muttering words that were more than likely vulgarities—though Billy couldn’t tell for sure. “Can you please show me the damage to your car?” he asked the inebriated man, feeling horrible about the situation.
The drunk spun on his heels and wobbled off into the lot, wandering through the rows of cars—occasionally going to his knees to search for something beneath them.
Confused, Billy followed, attempting to gain more answers with each row of cars they passed.
This went on for a few minutes until business started picking up. “Are you all done messing around, Billy?” Charlie yelled. “We have cars to park.”
By then, Billy understood that he’d been playing the victim of another stupid prank.
Charlie later filled him in that he’d discovered the intoxicated man passed out in the gutter. He grabbed the stranger by the arm and helped him up. The man began slurring his words beyond recognition, while Charlie quickly deciphered that the drunk had lost his bottle of gin and wanted help finding it. “I have just the person you need to talk to,” he told the wasted man and took him straight to Billy.
Billy laughed along with his friend. “You’re going to get yours, Charlie. Trust me, it’s coming.”
⁕
It was one o’clock in the morning when Billy returned home. Jimmy was waiting for him at the front door. Although Jimmy was too exhausted to spin in circles and perform like some circus dog, Billy realized, He still waited up.
Billy closed the front door, went to one knee and scratched the black mutt’s neck. “Good boy, Jimmy,” he told him. “Did you have a nice night?”
The mutt sighed heavily.
Billy laughed. “That says it all, buddy. Let’s go to bed.” As they headed for Billy’s dumpster of a room, he asked Jimmy, “What do you think about me going to school for law enforcement? If Charlie can get accepted into the program, then I should…”
Jimmy yawned, more interested in sleep.
“You’re right,” Billy said. “It is a stupid idea.”
Chapter 2
Billy couldn’t take the sneezing and watery eyes anymore and finally surrendered. With the help of one tiny white pill, his aggravating symptoms were instantly alleviated, leaving his entire world covered in a thick coat of syrup.
The few days that led up to graduation flew by, filled with enough distractions so that little thought was focused on life or the future. Like mosquitos to a bug light, Billy, Charlie, Mark and Jimmy ended up in Billy’s bedroom, engaged in multiple video game tournaments that started late in the afternoon and went deep into the night, without them exchanging one serious word. It was a bizarre tradition they’d perfected throughout high school, sharpening their tongues through witty banter.
“Can you buy men’s clothes where you got that shirt?” Charlie asked Mark, as he stalked him on the screen.
“What’s that?” Mark asked, in deep concentration.
Charlie quickly looked sideways. “What’s the matter with you? Are you on a three-second delay or something?”
Billy laughed but never looked up from the game.
“Why are you even here, Charlie?” Mark asked, his eyes also locked onto the television. “The restraining order doesn’t mean anything to you, does it?”
Although they heckled one another, each heated competition required their full and complete concentration.
“Restraining order?” Charlie repeated and snickered. “I do more around this house than Billy does. They’d never get rid of me.”
Mark quickly looked at Billy, who nodded it was true. They all laughed.
“Whatever, Quasimodo,” Billy said and leapt off the bed as he launched his attack on screen. “Got you, lollipop!” he screamed at Charlie. “You’re dead.”
Charlie threw his controller onto the floor and grinned. He clearly had an advantage in the verbal combat now and everyone knew it. “You know, Billy,” he said, “if you’re not gay, then you’ve got a lot of people fooled.”
Mark had just taken a drink of soda and gagged, nearly spraying the liquid out of his nose.
“Yeah okay,” Billy countered, still concentrating on the screen. “If there’s such a thing as reincarnation, I want to come back as you, Charlie. You’re my hero.”
“Well, I’m not a very strong person, but I do possess an inner strength,” Charlie quipped.
Mark nodded. “And he really likes pinwheels in autumn and the idea that no two snowflakes are the same,” he added.
Billy laughed—just in time for Mark to deliver the fatal blow.
Mark threw his arms into the air in victory. “Champion again!” he sang, as a chorus of one.
“Yeah, for the next half hour anyway,” Charlie said, resetting the game.
Billy turned to the newest champion. “Look at you, Marky Mark. You’re so animated you should come with your own theme song.”
“When you become a video game programmer, Billy, you should design one that half-wits like Mark can’t win,” Charlie said.
Billy glared at him.
“Video game programmer?” Mark chimed in. “I thought Billy Baker was going to be a candlestick maker?”
Both Charlie and Mark laughed.
“Don’t worry about me, fellas. I’ll be just fine,” Billy said, nodding. “Trust me, I’m not worried in the least,” he lied.
While the vicious mockery continued, they played game after game—until they were oblivious to reality.
⁕
On the morning before Billy’s graduation, Billy and Jimmy awoke late. Amidst walls papered in famous rappers, Billy turned to his side. “Are you going to sleep the whole day away?” he teased the dog.
Jimmy yawned and awkwardly jumped down from the bed. Billy swore he saw the old mutt grimace before letting out a heavy sigh. Jimmy stood motionless for a few moments until he was sure he had his legs under him. He took a step, wobbled once, paused and then picked up the pace. Momentum carried him out of the bedroom to where he needed to go.
Billy literally rolled out of bed and sat yawning for a few minutes.
Jimmy barked, calling from the kitchen. From his urgent tone, he needed to go out to relieve himself and couldn’t wait.
“Okay, okay,” Billy said and popped up in his boxer briefs. He ran down the hall on feet that were not yet awake or filled with blood. The last few steps into the kitchen resembled a stomp dance gone wrong. When Billy opened the door, Jimmy bolted out and moved as fast as his elderly legs would take him.
“You’re such a pain in the butt,” Billy said, yawning.
Jimmy headed for the back of the yard and squatted.
“Right,” Billy mumbled and turned to avoid the show. “You need some privacy.”
After a healthy breakfast of two Pop Tarts, an antihistamine and a warm glass of root beer for Billy, and two peanut butter-covered aspirin, an overflowing bowl of kibble and some fresh water for Jimmy, the dog licked his paw and ran it across his face and behind his ears.
After Jimmy’s bath, the two of them headed outside, Billy now properly attired in old sweat pants and a torn t-shirt.
Billy picked up the green Frisbee that sat on the deck and flung it into the yard.
Jimmy looked up at him like he was insane.
Billy laughed. “Sorry buddy,” he said, “if you could toss it I’d shag, but…”
Jimmy slowly walked over to the Frisbee and grabbed
it with his teeth. He carried it back to Billy and dropped it at his feet.
“That works for me, Jimmy.”
The silver-faced dog lay down and yawned. He was too tired for anything but relaxing. Billy didn’t mind. They sat together for a long while, both content to be in each other’s sluggish company.
“Well, we did it, buddy,” Billy said, breaking the silence. “We made it through high school.” He threw his arm around Jimmy’s back. “And this is going to be the summer of our lives.”
Jimmy’s eyes rotated up in a pathetic display of interest; no other part of him moved.
“We’ll go for ice cream and long rides in the car and swimming at the beach,” Billy said excitedly, “and we’ll even go camping…your favorite.”
Jimmy yawned again.
Billy laughed and lay on the deck beside him. “It’s going to be a summer to remember,” he promised. “You just wait and see.”
They lay side-by-side for some time, eyes closed and content to share in the silence. Suddenly, in the stillness, the weight of an unknown future descended upon Billy. “It’s what’s going to happen after summer that I’m starting to worry about,” he confessed aloud.
Jimmy immediately opened his eyes and looked at Billy, ready to listen.
“I mean, think about it…I’m supposed to know, right now, what I want to do for the rest of my life? Who I’m supposed to become?” He took a deep breath. “Until recently, the only decision I needed to make was what to order for lunch.” He looked sideways at Jimmy. “I probably shouldn’t worry, but I have no idea what I want out of life and it seems stupid to go to college and study something I may never care about…or use.”
Jimmy whimpered.
“Relax. I’m not thinking about not going to college. It’s just that I’d feel a hell of a lot better about it if I knew what I was going for, you know?”
The mutt squirmed closer, resting his chin on Billy’s arm.
“Charlie’s going to school for criminal justice. Mark’s going for engineering.” He sighed. “It seems like every one of my friends is excited about chasing after their dreams, but I…” He stopped and took in a few deep breaths. “I don’t have a clue about what I should be chasing, Jimmy.” He rolled his head back and forth on the deck. “And if growing up means feeling lost, then they can keep it.”
The Changing Season Page 3
