Victory Tour (Part 267)

I dropped Sherry at the southeast entrance, telling her I'd bring her bag, and pulled around to my assigned spot.

It felt considerably warmer when I got out and opened the trunk. A look at the weather app on my phone showed it was almost 40 degrees and it wasn't yet 8 a.m. The temp had risen at least a dozen degrees since I left the apartment maybe a half hour ago. Must be that south wind I felt blowing about 15 miles an hour.

The good news was it was supposed to hit the mid-60s this afternoon. Conditions would be downright pleasant for our walkthrough.

That made the letter jacket a bit much for today, but I decided to keep it on for now. First, it was still rather cool out. Second, one of my girlfriends would certainly snag it if I didn't keep it on my body.

Heck, a few might try even if I did.

These were the kind of days my grandfather detested. Not because of the weather, per se, but because of the effect it had on his cattle. Cold nights and cool/cold days were fine, as were cool nights and slightly warmer days. But cold nights and significantly warmer days led to respiratory issues. Which led to loss of appetite. Cattle didn't gain weight if they didn't eat. Grandpa didn't make money if they didn't gain weight.

Which made me wonder why all the feedlots he shipped to were out on the plains, where such meteorological fluctuations were an almost daily occurrence. He explained to me that most of those feedlot towns were out in the middle of nowhere. Lots of open space in which to pen tens of thousands of the animals.

I always thought it was because people like my grandmother didn't want that many smelly beasts so close to their houses. Which made me wonder why she married a farmer in the first place.

But, as Grandpa would say, "That's the smell of money, boy."

I somehow doubted U.S. Treasury facilities smelled like that.

With such thoughts running through my mind, I hurried to deliver Sherry's bookbag. She was waiting for me right inside the door, having removed her heavy coat. That allowed her to press a boob against me as I escorted her to her locker.

"You'd better get going," she said, sneaking one last kiss. "It's almost time for the bell."

"Yes, ma'am," I smiled just as the first bell rang.

I turned just in time to catch a glimpse of Elise and Morgan heading toward the cafeteria entrance. It looked like they were in a hurry. I wonder what that's all about. Kinda late to be grabbing breakfast. The cafeteria staff would have the serving line broken down by now.

Eh, they'll let me know if they want. I'd better get to the team room. I have a buttload of work to do.

I made it to the team room and was unloading the laptop when the tardy bell rang. The other guys got busy going over their game plans — hey, it was a legitimate academic pursuit; we were about to be tested on it — as Mrs. Stirling marked our presence on the attendance sheet. I don't know what she marked for the girls, but it wasn't my concern.

Just as I got the file on the Billy Bob-Katya story opened, our proctor strode over to me. With arms crossed and lips pursed. What'd I do now?

"There are still some things I refuse to do for my husband," she said quietly. "What you did with Elise last night is one. You'd better hope he doesn't figure it out."

"Uh, yes, ma'am," I mumbled, my face turning a bright crimson.

It didn't help that Elise and Morgan arrived shortly after with a plastic bag that appeared to contain a fairly large item. It turned out to be one of those square Mighty Blue seat cushions the spirit shop sold.

My tall girlfriend placed the cushion on her chair and sat down rather gingerly. My brainy girlfriend stomped in my direction with a fierce scowl, grabbing my arm and dragging me to the hallway.

"I told you not to do that with the other girls," she hissed as the door closed.

"Do what?" I asked.

"Back there," she hissed.

Ya know, if I ever so much as breathed one word of what I did with my girlfriends, they would have bludgeoned me to death before I ever even had a chance to try anything with more than one of them. Yet here they were, obviously dishing the details — to each other, at least — before the next day got properly started. I could only hope they kept such conversations confined to our circle.

"I don't think this is the time or place to have this discussion," I growled with my sternest Clint Eastwood glare.

"Just remember, mine's exit-only," she snapped. "Don't even think about it, boyo."

"I haven't," I said. "When was the last time I even used a finger back there with you?"

"Friday, Sept. 14," Morgan fired back. "The night before we played the Eagles. We ate at FB and went to the apartment."

Which may have had something to do with why I had no leg strength to get to that pass that could have won us the game, now that I thought about it. Did this girl have a photographic memory or something? No wonder she was so smart.

"Before that was Friday, Aug. 17," she continued. "In your shower. The night you cooked me dinner since we couldn't go out because you were grounded. You put two fingers in."

Yeah, that'd been a fun night, I remembered. And we'd even finished up before our folks showed up.

The flushed look on Morgan's face seemed to indicate she also had fond recollections of those evenings.

"I've told you before what I do with the other girls has nothing to do with you," I said. "Or do you really want me to 'make' you do those things? You still have to ask me nicely. And say please."

Morgan's face grew even redder and both nostrils flared. I think I pushed a button there.

"Excuse me," she husked, rushing past me. "I need to go to the bathroom."

I returned to the team room, getting curious looks from my teammates as I reclaimed my seat. The Stirling women studiously ignored me, but I noticed Elise squirm and adjust her cushion.

Pushing the latest incident to the back of my mind, if not out of my head, I finally got to work on meeting Prof. Silverberg's demand for 5,000 words. I might've had a couple thousand done by now if so many people didn't think my time was their time.

I barely noticed Morgan's return several minutes later. I hope she'd calmed down at least a little bit.

Getting back to the point where Jimmy Jack tooted his horn and drove away, I started making changes. Billy Bob and Katya would not get on the road immediately as I'd originally written. They'd spend the night at the Barnes place and get on the road in the morning. Katya needed rest.

That allowed me to put in the bit about Billy Bob washing up at the kitchen sink, using the can of Comet cleanser his mom kept under the sink to cut through the engine grease smeared all over his hands and forearms.

Katya intended to ask him about sleeping arrangements and stuck her head into the kitchen doorway only to lose the ability to speak upon finding Billy Bob stripped to the waist. He's ripped, she's all aflutter, sleeping arrangements don't seem so important all of a sudden.

The crooked grin he threw her way as he reclaimed his shirt didn't help matters, either. God, if he'd been Russian (or at least able to speak the language), she might've pounced on him again. That bulge in his jeans she remembered from sitting astride him in the Anderson barn held some promise!

Billy Bob, being male and clueless, failed to notice the flushed face and flaring nostrils. It was getting on to late afternoon/early evening and he hadn't thought to grill up a steak for himself when he cooked for Katya. Besides, his stomach, if not his heart, was still set on barbecue.

"What've you been doing?" Morgan, looking rather relaxed now, asked as she came over at the bell ending first period.

"Writing," I grunted. "Prof. Silverberg wants me to expand on a couple of stories for Creative Writing."

"Let me see," she demanded, leaning in to turn my laptop to where she could.

I took the opportunity to hit the head and a water fountain during the break between class periods. I returned to find Morgan, Elise and Mrs. Stirling gathered around my computer. Good Lord, it wasn't that interesting a read, was it?

"And this girl is supposed to fall for the farmer just like that?" Mrs. Stirling asked with a hint of disbelief.

"I've seen it happen," Morgan grumbled. "At least Billy Bob hasn't reaped the hero's reward. Yet."

"Ladies, it's fiction!" I said. "It's not like any of this could happen in real life."

"Except that it has," Morgan muttered quietly. "You'd better get back to work. Might want to study your game plan before fourth period."

"Yes, ma'am," I sighed, waiting for the trio to clear out so I could claim my seat and get back to typing as the tardy bell rang.

Billy Bob thought Katya would be safe enough where she was while he ran into town for some grub. Katya had other ideas, insisting she go with. Billy Bob really didn't want to deal with the questions that would surely arise if he showed up at a busy restaurant with such a knockout in tow. It was widely known he wasn't seeing anyone at the moment. The small-town gossip mill would overheat as all the busybodies raced to be the first to contact his mother about the matter.

Better just call in an order. Maybe the drive-through window would be dark enough no one would get a good look at her.

That'd be pretty much impossible at the drive-through beer barn, though. It was too well lit. A gallon of swait tay was added to the order. Better see if Katya wanted any dessert, too.

Katya remained strangely silent on the ride into town. She paid attention, though, as they rolled through the little burg, Billy Bob pointing out what passed for landmarks. That water tower looked like a good sniper position if she needed one.

"You grow up here?" she asked after he swung past his old high school and elementary, which were on the same block.

"All my life," he grunted. "’Cept fer college."

The sightseeing tour lasted long enough for the sun to fully set, lessening the chance of someone noticing Katya's curves. With a pound of brisket, sides, dessert and a jug of tea safely situated between them on the pickup's bench seat, Billy Bob headed back to the farm.

The meal was quickly consumed at the kitchen table, Katya battling to keep her eyes open until she finished desert. That nanner puddin' was heavenly!

"You better get some shuteye," Billy Bob advised as he put the leftovers in the fridge — there was enough for them both to have lunch tomorrow. "You can take my room. I'll make do on the couch."

Katya pouted prettily as she followed his advice, berating herself for not having the nerve to at least hug the man and thank him for his assistance. Why couldn't he be Russian?

As it was, neither got much sleep that night as the events of the day replayed in their heads. Billy Bob got up a little before midnight and took a cold shower. It wasn't cold enough and he eventually succumbed to the need to work off the stress building within him. God, she was gorgeous!

It was even worse for Katya, who was surrounded by his scent as she tried to get comfortable in an unfamiliar bed. Every breath she inhaled brought a reminder of what resided on the couch. So what if he wasn't Russian? She might even be willing to give being a farmgirl a try, she thought as a hand slipped under the waistband of her panties.

My progress was interrupted by the bell ending second period. I had several hundred words in the can and should be able to meet my assigned wordcount by Friday afternoon as long as the creative juices kept flowing.

I spent the break between classes going over my game plan. The difficult part was knowing my responsibilities at both U and V spots for all the plays in the script. Didn't matter that I hadn't worked with the offense all week and wasn't supposed to see any playing time tomorrow night. Still had to know this stuff.

It'd be my luck all the other slots would suddenly get sick or injured between now and kickoff.

I stayed with it until the other football players came over with their copies of "Hamlet." Rumor was Dr. Robinson was going to hit us with a pop quiz on the first two acts tomorrow.

"Won't be very pop if everybody already knows about it," I groused, thinking we should be reading the third act.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to go over the material again. Maybe there was something I missed the first time through.

Turned out, not much had changed. Still, the guys seemed to pick up on some things. Probably helped that we called up Karen's website as Elise and her cushion came to join us.

"So, the dude's not really crazy, just actin' like it," Danny Mathis said.

"At first, anyway," I said. "The next couple of acts show how he loses control as things start going downhill. But I think it's fair to say he's emotionally disturbed, at least. I mean, his dad's dead, mom's married the murderer, all the stuff mentioned as happening before the story starts.

"His descent into madness comes as he sees how his actions lead to disaster — Polonius and Ophelia, especially. By then, it's too late to say it was all just an act. Actions have consequences. His consequences were rather severe."

"I heard your aunt made special mention of how Ophelia's treated," Marshawn said. "Think we'll have anything ’bout that?"

"Wouldn't surprise me," I said, clicking on a link to a page about Ophelia. "But most of the stuff with her is in the next couple of acts. The mistreatment's just starting.

"One thing to remember is Ophelia's based on the culture of the time. Women were supposed to be subservient to men. Ophelia is obedient to her father and that's part of the problem. She wouldn't have spent so much time around Hamlet if Polonius hadn't told her to."

"That's not right," Elise protested. "She should've stood up for herself."

"Like I said, product of the time," I said, wondering why every female I came into contact with seemed to have such trouble separating fiction from reality. "Back then, women were almost totally dependent on men for their very survival — food, shelter, basic necessities. Defying her father's authority could have easily led to her being banished.

"Times have changed. You've defied your father's authority without such an outcome."

"How?" she asked.

"Going to 'study chemistry' on a school night," I smirked. "How different would your life be today if you hadn't?"

"Excuse me," Elise gasped with a furious blush. "I need to visit the ladies room."

"Now what was that about?" Reggie asked as my tall girlfriend raced out the door.

"No idea," I lied, fighting hard to suppress a smirk. "Guess she had to go."

With only a few minutes left before athletics, I got Reggie and Jordan to go over the game plan with me. While they weren't slot receivers, they were at least aware of what the responsibilities were. Reggie, especially. He couldn't complete passes if guys weren't in position to catch them.

The test in athletics turned out better than I expected. It helped that our 15-play script was basically five sets of run-run-play action pass. I could easily see Reggie hitting five TDs if one of the backs didn't pop one first.

Another round of surprises was waiting for me late in the period. First was Kacie entering the team room after all the tests had been turned in and guys began preparing for lunch. At least I'd paid enough attention to hear that the band had placed in the top 10 at the state contest, pretty good but not high enough to bring home a trophy.

"Hey, baby sister," I grinned, pulling her in for a hug. "When did y'all get in?"

"Just a little while ago," Kacie grumped, leading me outside and away from an audience. "That's too long a trip to make in barely 24 hours. We should have spent the night. The contest didn't end until after midnight and we were one of the last to march. Didn't get on the road until after 2. I just need to chase down a couple of assignments, then I'm going home to get some sleep. We've been excused for the day."

"Sounds like a plan," I said.

"Have you talked to Mom?" she asked.

"No," I said flatly. "Thought I'd wait for her to cool off first. Dad and Grandpa were at practice last night and it didn't sound like she had."

"You know it's just going to be worse the longer you wait," Kacie pouted. "Just get it over with."

"I think I'll just wait her out," I said, hoping like hell that package from the governor would hurry up and get here. "I'm younger than she is. I've got more time."

"Why do you have to be so hardheaded?" my sister demanded, sounding way too much like our mother.

"Why should I be forced to put up with that kind of treatment just because she got the wrong idea about something?" I snapped, quickly losing patience with the topic. "I'm not the only one being hardheaded here."

"She's your mother," Kacie said. "She loves you."

"Yeah, but does she respect me?" I fired back. "I'm not seeing anything that says she does."

Kacie tried to stare me down, but she was very much the bunny in this instance. The snake won again.

"You'd better get going," I said as the bell rang to start my lunch period. "Are you good to drive or do we need to get one of the security guys?"

"Danny's giving me a ride," she mumbled.

"Make sure he's good to drive, then," I said. "I'll see you later."

I had to go back inside and get my stuff. I'd already loaded everything in the backpack before athletics started, so it wouldn't take long.

I should've just taken my chances and left the bag there. After the scene with my sister, I wasn't in a mood to deal with the second surprise.

"Hurry it up, dude," Jed called out. "Time to eat."

"Yeah, Beef Strokin' Off," Chuck grinned. "Ya need to get extra so we can protect it."

"You'll have to protect somebody else's," I growled. "I'm goin' off campus."

"What for?" Jed asked. "We gotta honor the streak."

"Look," I snapped as my control started to crumble, "I'm not going to the cafeteria only to get my ass jumped for a disturbance I didn't cause! If that's a problem for you, take it up with Hennings."

"Chill, dude," Jed said, holding up his hands and stepping back.

"Is there a problem here?" Coach Tucker asked, stepping in from the hallway.

"Just another day in paradise," I snarled, the crumbling now hurtling toward total catastrophic collapse. "I'm going off campus so I don't have to fool with idiots who think I should be expelled. I do what I can to avoid trouble AND IT KEEPS COMING AFTER ME! MY MOTHER CALLED ME DURING CLASS YESTERDAY AND ORDERED> ME TO COME HOME SO SHE COULD CHEW MY ASS BECAUSE SHE HEARD I GOT IN TROUBLE IN THE LUNCHROOM AGAIN! IT STOPS NOW OR PEOPLE ARE GOING TO GET HURT!!!"

"Calm down, son," Coach started, a look of concern on his face.

"Fuck this shit!" I spat, shouldering my bag and hitting the door.