Chapter 11- Michael P.O.V

Michael owned his own car, an off-white Toyota that had had over a hundred thousand miles on it when he bought it. The interior was clean, and although the engine drank a quart of oil every month, it ran smoothly. Yet as he opened the passenger door and adjusted the seat for Nick’s long legs, Michael thought how plain it would look to a girl like Jessica Hart who had just returned from sunbathing in the Aegean Sea. He was hoping to see her at the game, maybe say hello.

The school lot was packed; they had to park a block away in a residential area. Walking towards the stadium, Michael caught a glimpse of the scoreboard: Tabb High 0; Visitors 6. The marching bands and drill teams had taken the field. The snack bar was beset with thick lines. They had definitely made it for half-time.

“Have you ever played any sports?” Michael asked Nick as they hurried up the steps that lead to the entrance.

“Nope.”

“How about some pickup basketball games?”

“Oh, yeah, we used to play those.” Nick chuckled. “But we never followed many rules.  You have to knock a guy unconscious for a fowl to be called.”

“Have you ever thought of going out for the team here?”

Nick looked uncomfortable. “I don’t think I’d fit in on a team.” He reached for his back pocket. “How much is it to get in?”

“When you’re this late, it’s free.”

Once inside the gate, they both caught a whiff of hot dogs and decided they were starving. Nick insisted it would be his treat and went to wait in line while Michael made a quick stop at the rest room. He was heading back to the snack bar when he ran into Alice McCoy. She had a guy with her, a think redhead who was literally dragging her towards the exit.

“Mikey!” she called disengaging herself from her date and running to give him a quick hug. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you all night. Remember, I want you to meet my friend.”

“Well I’m here now” he said cheerfully.

She glanced back over her shoulder. Her date had turned away, staring into the brick wall behind the snack bar. Alice smiled quickly, nervously. “Did you have to work late?”

“No later than usual. Do you have to leave now?”

“Yeah. We- we have to go somewhere.”

“That’s too bad. I could meet your friend anothjer time.

“No, I want to be there when you meet her.” Again she glanced at her date, obviously trying to come to some sort of decision. Michael nodded towards the guy.

“Is that your new boyfriend?”

She didn’t seem to hear him.

“Could you stay here a sec?”

“Sure.”

Alice walked back to the guy, spoke softly to him. At first he shook his head. But as Alice persisted, he shrugged pulling out a comb running it through his long, thin red hair. Touching him gratefully on the arm, Alice returned to Michael.

“I’ll go get her,” she said. “Stay here, right here. OK?”

“All right.” Watching her disappear into the crowd, Michael wondered why Alice had not introduced him to her date. Ordinarily she was extremely polite. Something about the way the guy stood, his hands ploughed into his pockets, completely ignoring everyone around him, disturbed Michael. He decided to introduce himself.

“Hi, I’m Michael Olson,” he said walking up and offering his hand. “I’m a friend of Alice’s. You’re Clark right?”

The guy had the brightest green eyes Michael had ever seen. They practically glowed in the dark. His gaze lingered on Michael’s outstretched hand for a moment before he lazily shook it.

“I suppose,” he said. He had a deep southern accent, a disconcerting stare. His black leather biker jacket hung loose over his shoulders; Michael supposed there was nothing but skin and bone beneath it. The guy needed to see a doctor. His palm was warm and clammy.

“Alice tells me you’re also an artist?”

Clark found the comparison amusing. “She loves pretty colours. I like sharp lines, black and white.”

“Huh. What’s that mean?”

“That I’m unique.”

What does she see in him?

The question made Michael pause and consider how well he knew Alice. From day one, he’d neatly classified her as a carefree darling. He should know better by now that no one was that neat, or that unique.

“She told me you’ve had a big influence on her work,” he said.

“She’s talked about me?”

“On occasion.”

“Alice doesn’t work. Alice’s got too much money to work. Alice’s got too many dresses.” He grinned suddenly. “Do you like the dress she’s wearing tonight? I like when her sister wears it. It looks a lot different on Polly.”

Michael had met Polly once. Alice had brought her by his store last spring. He assumed Clark was making a lewd reference to her large breasts. His dislike for the guy deepened. “Where are you from?” he asked.

Clark lost his grin. “Why?”

“I was just wondering, that’s all. Do you go to school around here?”

“No.”
“Where do you go?”

“The other side of town.” Clark’s gaze wondered towards the playing field. “Our team’s as lousy as yours. But in our stadium, you can always lean your head back and look at the trees in the sky.”

Michael frowned. “I don’t mean to be rude but are you stoned?” He was worried about Alice driving home in the car with him.

“I’m here man, right here.” Clark yawned, turning to face the wall behind the snack bar. “Alice had better get back soon. I’ve got to get out of here.”

“Why?”

Bubba and Kats appeared. Since Clark hadn’t bothered to answer his last question Micahel felt under no obligation to introduce him to them. Bubba had a black suede jacket, a red handkerchief tucked in the pocket, a white silk shirt underneath. Kats was no longer dripping but still stunk of beer. Bubba had probably thrown Kat’s clothes in the dryer without washing them. Clark continued to stare at the wall. It didn’t even have graffiti on it. Michael allowed Bubba to pull him away.

“Have you seen Clair?” he asked.

“No, I haven’t been here long,” Michael said. “But I think the cheerleaders are finished with their half-time routine.”

“Good.” Bubba gestured in the direction of Clark. “Who’s that?”

“A friend of Alice’s.”

“Wonderful. He looks dead.” Bubba turned to Kats pulling out his wallet. “Get me large buttered popcorn and a medium size Dr Pepper without ice.” He handed Kats a ten. “Treat yourself to whatever you want. Bring it to the fifty yard line. But if I’m talking to Clair keep your distance.”

Kats accepted the money. The side of his face had begun to colour from his bout with Nick. “Going to bag her, Bubba?”

“I’m going to wrap her up in aluminium foil and toast her. Go get in line. Tell them to watch the salt on the popcorn.” When Kats was gone, Bubba said, “Let’s do it Mike.”

“I’m waiting for Alice and Nick. I should stay here.”

Bubba waved his hand. “Don’t worry they’ll find you. Come on.”

Michael really did want to see Bubba in action, especially going after Clair. He figured he’d be able to catch Alice on her way back to Clark. And locating Nick would be no problem. He followed Bubba out on to the bleachers. The mood of the crowd appeared upbeat; Tabb High hadn’t been down at half-time by six points in years. The cheerleaders were gathered beneath the stands on the track, near centre field. Standing nearest to the microphone Clair was giving her voice a rest, sucking on a soft drink while waiting for the team to return to the field. With her shiny blonde hair tired up in twin gold-ribboned ponytails, her legs deeply tanned beneath her short blue skirt, Michael had to admit she looked awfully sexy.

“Are you sure you want me with you?” Michael asked.

“I consider this a necessary part of your education. Just stay close, like we’re hanging out together. But let me do all the talking.”

A chest-high chain-link fence separated the audience from the track. Leaning casually into it, Bubba waved to Clair, calling, “Hey, come here. I want to talk to you.”

Clair did not quite know what to make of the order. Holding on to her drink, she approached slowly. “Yeah, what?” she said, looking up at him.

Bubba smiled. “How are you doing, Clair? Good? You look good.”

Clair took her straw out of her mouth. “I’m all right. What can I do for you, Bubba?”

Bubba rested an elbow on top of the fence, dropping his smile to an unhappy expression. “I don’t know maybe you can do something. I’m having a bad day a really bad time.”

“What’s wrong?” Clair asked.

“Well like I was telling Mike here- you know Mike sure you do- it’s no wonder they speak of the market like it was a woman. You never know what she is going to do. The same day you think you’ve got her figured out, she turns around and stabs you in the back.”

Clair showed interest. “Oh yeah, someone told me you fooled around with stocks. What happened, did you lose some money?”

“It was all on paper, you understand. I was investing dollars I’d made on earlier trades. But it still pisses me off to be outguessed. I probably shouldn’t talk about it. But the market she’s one nasty lady. How are things with you? I love your hair up like that. You should wear it like that all the time, even when you’re having a shower.”

Clair played with one of her ponytails. “If I did that I’d get my ribbons wet.”

Michael recognised Bubba’s strategy. It was his opinion that money and sex were inseparable in the female mind; thinking about credit cards and spending power, in his opinion, git them more excited than browsing through a Playgirl magazine.

“Then you should blow them dry,” he said. “Hey can I ask you something. This has been a really miserable day.”

“What?”

“Let’s go out together sometime. I’m always working. I’ve got to have more fun in life. Let’s go out on the weekend, next Saturday night.”

Clair nodded. “Sure, we could- wait a second. I don’t know. I don’t think so. I’d like to, but I’m seeing Bill Skater. I don’t think he’d like it if I went out with someone else.”

Bubba waved his hand. Sometimes Michael thought Bubba could convince the Pope to break his vows with a wave of that hand. “Bill won’t, I know the guy. He doesn’t want to totally monopolise your life. Don’t worry about it, we’ll have fun.” He smiled. “I just got new leather upholstery in my Jaguar.”

“That’s right, you’ve got a Jag.”

“I sure do. Hey you like music, Clair? You like U2??”

Bubba must have researched Clair’s taste in music. She lit up. “They’re one of my favourite bands!”

“They’re going to be in town next week. We’ll go see them.”

“But I heard they were sold out.”

“I’ve already got tickets. Third row, dead centre. We can eat first and then head over to the forum. Give me your phone number.”

Clair glanced around uneasily. Bubba had come  a long way in less than a minute but Clair was obviously hesitate about handing out her number to a short overweight guy in front of the entire community. “You really have third-row tickets?”

“They could be second row.”

She paused, sizing him up. She wasn’t a total air-head. “You’re not just throwing me a line, are you? I’ve heard about you?”

Bubba was sly. “What have you heard?”

Clair blushed. “Stories.”

“Well they’re all true.” Bubba leaned over the fence, spoke seriously. “If you don’t want to go, Clair just say so. A lot of guys don’t mind wasting their time but I do.

Michael had followed Bubba’s moves perfectly up until this point. But when Clair suddenly blurted out her number he realised he was completely lost.

“Five-five-five-four-three-two-six,” she said. “I don’t have anything to write on. Will you remember it?”

Bubba nodded, moving back from the fence straightening his jacket. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Clair returned to the microphone, her fellow cheerleaders quickly gathering around. Bubba and Michael went back in the direction of the snack bar. “No sweat” he said.

Michael nodded. “All right, you were smooth. But if you hadn’t brought up the concert, she would never have given you her number. Do you really have tickets in third row?”

“Nope, I don’t have any tickets. And I’m not going to pay scalper prices to get them.”

“You’re kidding? She’ll freak when you pick her up.”

“No, she won’t. Ten minutes alone with me and she won’t even remember how to spell U2.”

Michael laughed. “I’d like to see that.”

“I’m hoping you will. You noticed I made the date for next Saturday and not tomorrow? I wanted to give you time to talk to Jessica Hart. We can make it a double date.”

“I don’t think I can move that fast.”

“Then stop where you are and let her come to you,” Bubba stopped, gestured towards mid-aisle. “She’s coming down the steps now. See her? She’s got that Sara chick with her.”

Michael would not have believed his heart could start pounding so hard so quickly. Jessica had changed into white trousers, a bright green blouse. A 35mm camera with a telephoto lens hung around her neck. Her long brown hair bounced with each step she took down the bleachers. He turned away.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said.

“Leave if you want. I’ve been looking forward to a private conversation with Jessie about her tastes in music.”

“I’ll stay,” Michael grumbled. He hoped- and feared- that Jessica and Sara would pass them by without noticing them. Perhaps they would have. But Bubba stepped right into their path.