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

by James Ross

  “What is it with all the hats?” Captain Jer asked no one in particular.

  Julie knew. “Those are the Top Hats.”

  “What’s that?”

  “They do charitable work around the area. Once a month they get on a bus and go out looking for donations to support their cause.” And a distinctive impression they left. One guy wore goalposts with a Frisbee ring to spear the faithful that wanted to throw for points. A gal wore a green top hat with a shamrock. Another guy had fake hair cascading onto his shoulders underneath a ball cap.

  The public could count on the unexpected at Stub’s Missing Digit. This weekend it was the Top Hats. Next week it might be a biker rally or baby shower.

  A witch’s cone, a three-pronged jester’s hat with ringing bells, an Easter bonnet, a Ram’s helmet with facemask, a Raptor’s toothy gnarl and a two-billed ball hat with the Cardinals on the front half and the Cubs on the back half. One guy wore an army helmet, a couple wore matching hats—a rooster for him and a hen for her, a nun’s hat with a white forehead band, a triangular Chinese hat with foreign words, a pink bunny’s face, a Dalmatian configuration that had black polka dots on a white background complete with floppy ears and a black nose. There was a matador, a crow and a headband with tiger ears. Snow White was in attendance alongside a multi-colored parrot. A lightning bug with blinking LEDs was not far away from a Roman gladiator. If the goalposts couldn’t snare the Frisbee ring then a patron could take a stab at another guy’s buffalo horns. There was a hot dog in a bun with overflowing condiments, a Cleopatra wig and a sailor.

  But most importantly there was fun and laughter and the guys couldn’t wait to become a part of it.

  “Holy night crawlers, Batman. Only the Grand Poobah can wear that one outside the lodge!” Trot yelled as he nudged Captain Jer as a guy with a purple water buffalo helmet and horns sticking out the sides walked by.

  “Why doesn’t somebody tell these characters that Halloween was a few weeks ago?” Captain Jer said.

  “Jerry, it’s for charity,” Julie explained. “They’re all over town.”

  Unbeknownst to the Prairie Winds crew an older man and younger acquaintance were holding court at the corner of the outside bar. Bucky Porter and Tanner Atkins had decided to tip a few together at the local watering hole. The familiar bar stool was just as comfortable as the seat behind the bench at the local courthouse. The pair was faceless and played a different game in a world of their own. J Dub and none of the Prairie Winds guys had ever met them face to face. At the Digit it was easy for them to blend in.

  The night was crisp. Blue Howe had decided to peel the opaque covering off the beer garden so the smoke could escape. Portable heaters blew forced air down on the patrons that were lucky enough to have a table under the roof overhang around the perimeter of the outside garden. Behind the bandstand an open air view of the Mississippi River was visible. Tugboats shining lights pushed barges against the current. Joy riders navigated carefully. The Missouri downtown skyline was in the distance. A Roman candle or bottle rocket occasionally zipped through the darkened sky.

  “What’s the occasion?” Captain Jer asked a young lady with a satin lapel banner draped over her shoulder.

  “Can’t you tell?” The reply was slightly slurred amidst an ear-to-ear smile. She held her banner out for him to read. BACHELORETTE was in plain view.

  “Why does a good looking girl like you want to get married?”

  “I’m sooo in love.” Her smile stretched further as she batted her eyes.

  Isn’t love grand? Jerry thought. Stupid bitch has no idea what she’s doing.

  “Jerry, stop it!” Julie scolded.

  “What?”

  “That look on your face tells me exactly what you’re thinking.”

  “It’s true.”

  Julie re-examined the bride-to-be, her dingy demeanor was unmistakable. “Yeah, but…”

  “But what?”

  “Let her have her moment.”

  The maid of honor walked into the conversation and stepped up to Captain Jer. “Do you wanna?”

  “Wanna what?”

  She flashed a different banner that was draped across her front. SUCK FOR A BUCK was clearly displayed. A devilish grin overcame the retired pilot. He got up and started to undo his belt.

  “Jerry! Stop it! Not here!”

  “She issued the invitation.”

  The maid of honor giggled. Hard candy was taped to her body. “For a dollar I’ll let you pull one off with your mouth. We’re trying to pay for the bachelorette party.”

  “Give her a dollar and get your mind out of the gutter.” Jer ogled the candy that was placed on each one of the girl’s boobs. “Maybe I’ll donate two bucks.”

  “Those go for ten bucks each.”

  “And I’ll put my head in your lap for twenty,” the bride-to-be announced.

  Trot had forty bucks out of his pocket and on the table before Jerry could back off. “Go to work big boy.” Julie snickered as the gang roared. Within seconds a hoard of females with matching red shorts and blue jerseys surrounded the table.

  “What is this? A softball team?”

  “We’re Cubs fans.”

  “You’re winning attitude needs to spread to that bunch of losers.”

  “Today we’re members of Club Rachel!” The girls jumped and screamed.

  The bride-to-be whispered into Captain Jer’s ear. “That’s me.”

  “In a few seconds you’ve changed my whole attitude about you.” He leaned forward and sucked a piece of candy off the maid of honor’s boob to an ovation from the transplanted Cub fans. He coaxed Trot to sample the second piece of hard candy then leaned back with his hands clasped behind his head. Within seconds the bride-to-be was on her knees with her head buried in his lap. The yells intensified. Trot signaled for the waitress to back the girls up with cocktails.

  Captain Jer reached under the table and reached into a black duffel bag.

  “What are you doing now?” Julie asked.

  “I always bring this with me to the Digit.”

  “That’s why we love him so much,” YouWho giggled.

  Jer reached into the bag and produced a ten cent silver crown with cheap sequins. “Who wants to wear the crown?”

  “Not so fast,” Trot interrupted. He reached into the duffel bag and retrieved a water bottle with a spray nozzle. “We vote on the winner.” He sprayed the girl’s t-shirt.

  “What are you doing?” the Cub fan yelled as parts of her t-shirt got wet.

  “Getting a better look.” The wetter the t-shirt became the better the view for the crowd.

  Another gal from the crowd squeezed her way to the forefront. “I can do better than that.” She undid her bra and tossed it on the table. Her back was arched, breasts pushed forward awaiting the spray bottle. Trot accommodated as others in the crowd craned their necks for a better view.

  “That’s a seven!”

  “I’ll give her an eight!”

  Scotty P had his arms spread as the ladies fought to be sprayed. Four were lined up behind him. After soaking a half dozen contestant number seven decided that the crown was hers to win. To a thunderous ovation she peeled her entire blouse off.

  “Is this what it’s like during spring break?” Julie asked.

  “It is at Panama City and Daytona Beach.”

  “And I’m sure at every other stop where college girls party.”

  The bride-to-be whispered something to the maid of honor. “My turn.” She stuck her t-shirt out for Trot to spray. After it was soaked the crowd cheered.

  “Come on, Rachel. You can do better than that!” a club member urged. Rachel peeled the t-shirt over her head and stood in front of the crowd with her bra soaked.

  “Go, Rachel, go!” the chants increased from the bachelorettes. Her bra went flying. The chants turned to hoots and hollers. Trot sprayed. The guys ogled. As Captain Jer inched closer Rachel reached up to her left breast and pinched it.

  A se
cond later Captain Jer was shaking his head back and forth. Soaked. He turned to Julie, “Did she just do what I thought she did?”

  Julie nodded vigorously, laughing. “I guess the joke’s on you. You’re on your own now.”

  “She’s lactating!” a club member screamed. Jer looked at her waist. It was true. The bride-to-be was very pregnant. He wiped his face with his shirt sleeve, raised his arms and placed the crown on the top of Rachel’s head.

  “Are you ready to get this party started?” Daddy Mac’s voice boomed through the microphone. A thunderous yell ensued. The music blared. BowTye’s rich vocals started things off.

  “I can’t believe she did that!” Captain Jer exclaimed to the guys. He reached into his duffel bag.

  “Now what do you have planned?” Julie said. Nothing he did surprised her anymore.

  “We’ll have a drink to refresh ourselves. Then it is time for Act Two.”

  “What is that pray tell?”

  Captain Jer produced a sponge and press-on tattoos. “You won’t believe where I get to put these.” His cat-caught-the-canary grin was full of good-natured evilness.

  Julie frowned at him. “If you weren’t so darn appealing you wouldn’t get by with half the crap you pull.” His facial tan looked to be store bought. The blue eyes and silver hair provided the perfect contrast. “After watching you in action I think that you could charm the panties off a nun.”

  The outstanding vocals of the band worked the patrons into frenzy. A black Daddy Mac wearing a cowboy hat and the charismatic actions of the Furkinators had the crowd up and dancing with sing-a-long versions of the songs. Patrons were young, old, black, white, rich and poor. Occasionally a coat and tie could be seen, but not many. Biker garb, golf shirts, sports team attire and jeans seemed to be the clothes of choice.

  A t-shirt read Hog’s Breath Saloon. Another read OREGON DUCKS. Then there was A Sturgis Legend, Billy V’s Fighting Moondoggies and another that said Daytona Beach Bike Week—March 8, 2005. Some women wore leather coats. Others had jeans tucked into boots. There were plenty of vests. And no one knew the meaning of a diet it didn’t seem.

  “Look at them. They’re all smoking. Trying to stay thin. They’ve got their belts two notches too tight trying to hide their bellies.” Jer indiscreetly pointed to a lady with makeup caked on her face, tulip-pink lip gloss you could see your reflection in and wearing clothes fit for a teen. “Sixty’s the new sixteen, you know,” he said as he stood to leave for a restroom break.

  “Oh, Jerry. You’re bad.” Julie put her hands on her hips. “When you die you’re going to go straight to hell.”

  The tunes were a mixture of oldies and new melodies.

  Daddy Mack, BowTye and the Furkinators were on their game.

  Upon his return Captain Jer took a generous sip of beer, flashed a smirk to Julie and reached under the table.

  “I don’t even want to ask.”

  “You might want to leave for this performance.”

  YouWho elbowed Fred. “Have you an’ Po’ Chop seen dis act?”

  “No, but I’ve heard about it.”

  “Dis means we’ll be leavin’ soon.”

  Captain Jer brought his props up to the top of the table. “Shaving cream?” Julie asked.

  “You’d be surprised how many of them want to freshen up.”

  “Huh?” Julie said. The cocktail waitress dropped more longnecks off for the boys.

  “Now dat he calmed da girls down he’ll get da tattoos out,” YouWho explained.

  When the press-ons became visible the women flocked to the table. Captain Jer belted down another swig. “Any volunteers?”

  “I want that one!”

  “It can only go on your thigh.”

  “That’s where I want it.” The redhead sat on the table and hiked her skirt up, her panties visible.

  Captain Jer rubbed his hands together like he was a mad technician ready for the dirty work. “I’ve got to do some prep work to make it stick.”

  “I know. I was here a few months ago. I’ve wanted that treatment for weeks.”

  Captain Jer shook the bottle of shaving cream and sprayed the foam on the redhead’s thigh. A crowd had assembled. The guys hooted and hollered. Julie faked a scowl. The booze actually put her in a mood to enjoy the antics. Captain Jer grabbed a razor and shaved the peach fuzz off the lady’s leg. When done he grabbed some napkins and wiped her thigh. Next he placed an enormous tattoo of a pirate with a patch over one eye and a parrot sitting on his shoulder on her thigh. Two minutes later she was thanking him as she proudly displayed the decoration to whichever patron wanted to see. The crowd roared.

  “Can I go next?” an obnoxious, high-pitched voice said. A brunette with an antique gold mask over her eyes appeared wearing a black fedora with a chin strap and multi-colored peacock plume. She broke away from her boyfriend who was the guy that was wearing the purple water buffalo headdress and elbowed her way past Scotty P.

  “You’ve got jeans on.”

  “So, I want that look.” The Chablis spilled out of the glass as she took a seat on the table. “They can come off.” The brunette smiled and Captain Jer licked his lips.

  To sounds of the crowd’s encouragement the brunette undid her belt and pulled down her zipper. She wiggled her torso as the jeans found their way down to her ankles. The guys had cleared the table of beer bottles. The woman was flat on her back. Hot red panties unabashedly exposed.

  “Jerry! Stop it!” Julie acted like she had had enough. There was a sense of enjoyment in her voice however. She had met the woman before.

  “Go, Jerry, go!” The chants encouraged. Captain Jer shook the can. Foam oozed onto her thighs. Some covered her panties. He rubbed his hands together.

  “Go, Jerry, go!”

  She smiled as he tidied up her thighs. His razor strokes went higher. “Now, now, I wax there,” she warned him playfully.

  Captain Jer grinned. He reached under the table and took something out of his duffel bag. “I come prepared.”

  “For my bikini area?”

  Captain Jer looked into her eyes and mischievously raised his eyebrows.

  “I’m going to Florida soon.” The brunette wiggled her bottom to encourage him.

  “Go, Jerry, go! Go, Jerry, go!” The chants dwarfed the sounds of the band.

  It was the middle of a song. The music stopped. Heads turned. Daddy Mack waited. He wanted part of the audience’s attention. “I hope we’re not interfering with the personal hygiene class.”

  Captain Jer tore off a strip of silver duct tape. “I use this for my wax jobs.”

  “Go, Jerry, go! Go, Jerry, go!”

  Julie got up. “That’s it!”

  “It’s not every day that you win a couple of mil.”

  “I don’t know who is more disgusting, you or Mrs. Porter!”

  CHAPTER 63

  The weather had turned cold. For all intents and purposes the golf season was over. Once in a while if the forecast was encouraging the faithful would show up bundled in thermal underwear and wearing stocking caps. However when snow or ice covered the ground no one came around. J Dub, Julie and Curt caught up with the items that needed fixing around the clubhouse. Better yet a golf trip to Florida, Arizona, Texas or California could be scheduled.

  Doc and J Dub knew that they had to carry forward on their promise to let Pabby go out with a falconer. This particular winter was going to be a little different. After everything was shaken out the syndicate from Prairie Winds had the only winning Seven is Heaven ticket in the country. The guys won $2,159,334. Doc and J Dub had the lion’s share. Each put up a hundred dollar bill so their return was a little over a half a million each before taxes.

  “Damn lawyers are going to get most of it,” J Dub complained as he and Doc sipped coffee in the clubhouse.

  “The IRS will get a lot of mine,” the vet stated. The pair was waiting on Pabby to be dropped off by Aieshia. Today was the scheduled hunting trip. They weren’t sure how much
hunting they were going to do, but they were planning to introduce Pabby to a lifestyle with which he was unfamiliar.

  Pabby walked through the door escorted by Aieshia. He was bundled up with a heavy jacket, hood and stocking cap. His hands were covered by gloves and he wore boots to trudge through three inches of snow that covered the ground.

  “You look like the abominable snowman.”

  “What’s that?”

  J Dub didn’t feel like explaining and blew off a quick reply. “A character that lives outside.”

  “We had ta make sho he was ta stay warm.”

  “You did well. He shouldn’t get cold with all those clothes on.”

  As she headed out the door, two SUVs pulled onto the lot. An older man and his friend parked and entered the clubhouse.

  “J Dub, I’d like for you to meet a client of mine,” Doc started. “Meet DeWitt Tracy.”

  The distinguished looking man extended his hand and replied, “Nice to meet you.” He nodded toward his accomplice. “This is my caretaker, T-Berry.”

  DeWitt was in his late sixties. His silver hair gave him a look of class. It was thinning on top and in front but he kept it longer in back. The locks cascaded onto his shirt collar. At six foot three he could look Doc straight in the eye. His hunting clothes were fashionable. Despite the cold his jacket was only zipped halfway. He wore a scarf over a red plaid flannel shirt to keep his neck and upper body warm.

  “Don’t hold it against him but he’s a retired lawyer,” Doc said.

  “The more I experience the more I think Trot is right,” J Dub followed.

  “What’s that?”

  Repeating a variation he replied, “There are only two lawyer jokes. The rest are true stories.”

  “Everett told me you were getting your belly full of them.”