window closest to him. However, the thick glass does not shatter and the touch-pad simply bounces hard on its surface and lands haphazardly on the floor. Although he feels freed by this aggressive action, he is disappointed to see Corba’s face still on the screen, looking up at him from the floor.
Rory walks over to device, turns around, pulls his black fitness pants down around his knees and dangles his bare backside over the touch-pad. “Kiss my ass, Corba, I won’t be doing anything for you;” he says, pulling up his pants with a sharp grin, “my time belongs to Kelly now. Don’t you ever darken my doorway with your bullshit again. Goodbye!”
Doctor Anderton shakes his head from side-to-side in disapproval, folding his arms as he watches Rory walk with liberated fervor out of the conference room.
As he walks through the majestic hospital corridors with fancy, decorative lighting and soft, reflective flooring, a smile forms on Rory’s face. For the first time in recent memory, he feels that his life is his own. Although he wasn’t quite the gentleman that Kelly had asked him to be when they discussed this decision the previous evening, he still feels proud of ending his relationship with the hospital.
Rory enjoys the warmth of the sunlight on his face as he emerges a free man from the lobby, and he soon fills with excitement at the idea of taking a touring group through the Redwood National Forest just a few hours from now.
After taking the jump seat in a cargo filled Cessna from the Los Angeles International Airport to the Arcata Airport, Rory makes his way to the terminal to meet with the New Yorkers who requested a tour of the Redwood National Forest. He stretches and enjoys the clean, crisp air around him, feeling fortunate to be away from the city and the recent media frenzy. His pace is slowed a bit by the large green backpack he has slung over one shoulder. He feels alive again wearing the same black fitness clothing from the meeting earlier in the day along with a pair of sunglasses and some worn running shoes. Rory enjoys the rustic, simple land around him, mostly devoid of people at this time of year. These clients requested something isolated from the hustle and flow of daily life, and Rory took the opportunity due to the impressive $800 fee they offered him for a few hours of babysitting amongst the majestic Redwoods.
When he steps into the terminal, he immediately sees a group of three adults holding up a small handwritten sign with his name ‘Rory’ penned in sloppy lettering. There is a young black couple among the trio, dressed in what could only be described as New York business casual attire. The man has short black hair and brown eyes. His muscular frame is complimented by khaki dress pants and a white button-down, silk shirt.
As Rory approaches the group, he looks over the black lady who is wearing a white summer dress and a large, shiny black belt with some heavily worn, but stylish ladies walking shoes. She has beautiful raised cheekbones, shoulder length black hair, and an athletic frame like her partner. Her smile is electric as she listens to her lover telling a story quietly in her ear.
The third member of their party looks badly out of place. He is a bald, heavyset man sporting dark sunglasses and has a sour expression on his pale face as if the idea of being awake is an inconvenience. The man is wearing a large, cheap baby blue mock that drapes far past his waist, looking even more awkward with his loose fitting, faded blue jeans. His hands are tucked lazily inside the pockets of his jeans, causing the mock to bunch up around his waist and large belly.
“Hey, I’m Rory,” he announces as he walks up to the group, extending his hand in an energetic California casual greeting.
“Hello, Rory, I’m Tuck,” the athletic black man says with a satisfied smile, sizing Rory up a bit as he shakes his hand with powerful vigor. “This is my girl, Lace- Uh,” he stops himself and laughs for a moment. “Actually, this is my girl Britney, and this unhappy motherfucker over here,” he gestures at the large man with an extended right hand, “is Thomas.”
“Great to meet you,” Rory says quickly, nodding and shaking hands with the other two members of the party. He feels suddenly strange shaking hands with Thomas as the man doesn’t look him in the eye, but focuses instead on his legs and waist. After they finish their handshake Rory blows it off as just another fat guy being jealous that he doesn’t have as small of a frame as him.
Alternatively, he really enjoys shaking hands with Britney, as she has this tenacious way about her and a cheerful, bubblegum vibe to her personality.
“Are you all good on lunch?” Tuck asks Rory in a direct, anxious manner.
“Yeah, I’ve got some lunch and dinner in my pack,” Rory says cheerfully, “we can get on the road if you’re ready.”
“Cool,” Tuck replies with satisfaction, putting his arm around Britney as they begin to walk to the entrance of the terminal. “Our Hummer is this way,” he says, pointing with his free hand toward the parking lot.
Rory nods with a half smile, feeling a little irritated at this useless information, but he grins a bit wider after a moment, enjoying the fact that this group has already arranged transportation to the park.
As the group walks out to the parking lot, Rory enjoys another breeze of fresh air, feeling free and far away from the hassles that this week has produced. When he steps toward the rear passenger side of the black Hummer, Tuck immediately intercepts.
“Yo, dude, that’s full of our gear, “Tuck yells over the top of the Hummer as he opens the driver side door, “go ahead and put your bag in the back seat.”
Rory peers into the cargo area for a moment, seeing multi-colored coolers, two backpacks, and some other larger bags that must hold tents and other camping gear. There is a pink mountain bike fixed to the roof of the Hummer on a Yakima bike rack, and he wonders to himself why anyone would want to bike alone. When Rory opens the door to enter the vehicle he sees that Thomas is sitting behind the driver seat which makes him grateful to place his large backpack between them on the smooth, gray leather seat. Once everyone is inside the vehicle, Tuck looks around to ensure that everything is secured, then he smiles wide at Britney as he starts the engine.
“So, Rory, how long is the drive up to the park from here?” Tuck asks, grabbing an expensive pair of sunglasses from his overhead visor and sliding them over his eyes as he drives up to the parking lot exit and waits to pull out into traffic.
“It’s about half an hour if you drive the speed limit.” Rory replies with a wide smile as they enter the open road. He closes his eyes and enjoys the much needed rush of adventure without any: doctors, reporters, and even getting away from Kelly feels good for a while.
“Then we sure as hell aren’t gonna’ drive the speed limit,” Tuck says with a smile, holding his head rigid as they enter the Redwood Highway.
“So, Rory, you’re an extreme sports guy; what is the craziest shit you’ve ever done?” Britney asks playfully, twisting in the passenger seat enough to see him with one eye.
“I would say skydiving drunk at night had to make the top of the list.” Rory replies with a smirk.
“No shit!?” Tuck asks with surprise. “How the hell would you even know where the ground is if it’s dark outside?”
“Well skydiving at night is still fun, you can see where the ground is by the lights, bodies of water, and mountain ridges. The big challenge is using good enough judgment when you’re drunk to pull the chute in time.”
“Wow, that’s sexy, dangerous,” Britney announces with a naughty grin. “What other crazy shit have you done- a
nd I mean CRAZY shit!?”
“Well, when we were teenagers, my friends and I went for an early morning street luge in San Francisco on a Sunday. We barely missed two cars coming uphill and our buddy Matt went right under an eighteen wheeler.” Rory says with a nervous smile.
“Damn, son,” Tuck says with a grin turning to look at Rory with his sunglasses for a moment, “that is some loco teenager shit. But then again every dude is like a squirrel with big balls when he’s a teenager. I remember my friends and I had a saying for our little gang back in the day. ‘We eat bolts by the pound, piss a gallon of gas every morning, and shit fire whenever we please.’” Britney and Tuck look at each other with a quick giggle. “We thought that shit sounded cool too- until the neighborhood started calling us the red ass gang, which made us drop the part about shitting fire.”
“You still shit fire sometimes, baby.” Britney says with a playful smile.
“Hey, easy, we’ve got company. This ain’t Vegas, girl, you can’t just say what you want and have it stay there.”
“So what do you folks do for a living?” Rory asks half out of curiosity and half out of instinct.
“Well, I run a successful courier business in Manhattan called Speed Deeds,” Tuck answers lazily, “and this little fox,” he strokes Britney’s face with his index finger, “helps to run my office.”
“What about you?” Rory asks, glancing over at Thomas, but trying not to look skeptical.
“Oh, Thomas, he’s a professional asshole,” Tuck says, with a smile after
The Golden Goose of Los Angeles Extended Edition Page 17
