hung out.
“I’m gonna miss you, bro,” Kevin said as he hugged me good-bye. “You make sure you write, okay?”
The Pit was in the student union at California State University-Polk, a school I’d never even heard of six months before when my father came home to announce that he’d been transferred yet again. It was a big promotion for him, and when my parents sat me down to tell me the news, I saw my four years at Kansas State going up in smoke.
“It’s just too far, son,” my father had said gently. “And CSU-Polk is a really good school. We know it’s going to be hard on you, but look at it as a big adventure.”
I’d just nodded, even though I was more than a little pissed off.
Yeah, some adventure. Thousands of miles away from my friends, away from the only state I’d ever known, to a thriving city in the middle of the San Joaquin Valley.
It was like moving to another planet.
And I was lonely.
The summer session was two weeks along, and I hadn’t met anyone, made any friends.
I hated Polk and wanted to go home.
I followed Blair into the Pit, which was crowded with students, and got myself a bottle of Coke from the cooler. He paid, and we found a booth in a secluded corner of the big room. “So, Jeff, what brings you to See As You Pee?”
I had just taken a drink of my Coke and started laughing, so it came out as a snort and Coke went up my nose. I started gagging and coughing, and grabbed a napkin out of the dispenser to blow my nose. I wiped at my eyes. “Jesus!”
“Never heard that before?” He had a bemused expression on his face. “This must be your first semester here.”
“Yeah, yeah it is.” I finally had it under control and grinned back at him. “I’d never even heard of this school a year ago.”
He nodded. “Not many people outside of the state have. So, where are you from?”
“Kansas.”
“Ah, the land of Dorothy.” The smile never faltered. “And what’s your major?”
“English.”
“And what dorm?”
I looked down at my Coke. “I live with my parents.”
“You live in Polk?” His eyebrows arched up over the sunglasses. “I didn’t think anyone actually lived here.”
“My dad got transferred.” I shrugged. “I’d planned on going to Kansas State, but with the transfer…” I let my voice trail off. No sense in pouring out my troubles to a total stranger.
“So you wound up here.” He nodded, “Made any friends?”
I shook my head.
His smile came back. “Well, now you have.” He stuck his hand out again. “I’m Blair, and I’m your new best friend.”
I stared at his hand for a minute, then took it. “Cool.”
“Come on. You don’t have any more classes today?”
“No, but—” I hesitated. “I need to go out and apply for a job.”
He waved his hand. “Plenty of time for that. You’ve just made a new best friend, and we need to celebrate.” He jumped up, threw his backpack over his shoulder, and put both hands on his hips. “You coming, new best friend?”
I considered for a second. Mom and Dad were paying for my tuition and books, and giving me a place to live—but had made it clear any money I needed beyond that, I’d have to earn myself. I’d worked at the Emporia McDonalds part-time my entire senior year, and the money I’d saved from that was running out. I had put applications in at a couple of department stores, but was resisting fast food. I’d liked working at McDonalds, primarily because Kevin had worked there too—but without him, I didn’t really want to get all sweaty and greasy every time I went to work again. Surely there had to be other places that would hire me? But I hadn’t really tried too hard to find a job, and I had a feeling Mom and Dad would be a little more sympathetic than they’d said. They hadn’t really pushed it much since we’d gotten here. I looked up at my new best friend and grinned. “Sure, what did you have in mind?”
“Let’s go to my fraternity house and hang out; you can meet some of the guys.” He raised the sunglasses again and winked. “Maybe you could join up.” He laughed, and added in a serious voice, “It’s like having eighty best friends, you know. Best cure for loneliness in the world.” He dropped the sunglasses back down. “Although there are times when I really miss being lonely.”
Chapter 2
Blair’s car was parked in the lot behind the library.
I whistled when we got to it. It was a silver Lexus convertible, and still had that new car smell on the inside when I got in. My own car used to be my parents’, and they’d just passed it on to me when they bought a new one when I turned sixteen. It was an eighteen year old Oldsmobile Delta Royale 88, with a navy blue paint job at one time, but apparently the paint had been defective so it kind of looked like it had leprosy. My parents had gotten it as a wedding present from my grandparents, and they’d babied it like you wouldn’t believe—oil change every three thousand miles, regular tune-ups, and so on. The end result was despite the fact it looked like it belonged up on blocks in a field somewhere, it ran like it was brand new. I called it the Flying Couch, because that’s what the ride felt like—like you were driving a couch down the road. I’d never really cared much about how the car looked—I was just grateful that I had one. Most of my classmates at Southern Heights either had to buy their own cars, rebuild one, or do without.
But my car was nothing compared to Blair’s Lexus. As soon as he had the top down, he plugged his iPod into the stereo and the car filled with the sound of a techno dance mix at top volume. He dug around in his backpack and pulled out a rumpled pack of Marlboro Lights. He offered the pack to me and I shook my head. “Nasty habit,” he said as he shook one out for himself. “I wish I’d never started.”
“When did you start?” I shouted over the woman who was wailing through the speakers. I started bopping my head around to the beat. It was a great song.
“When I was twelve,” he shouted back, shoving the car into reverse and screeching out of the parking spot. He stopped the car with a lurch and grinned over at me. “Deborah Cox is awesome, isn’t she? I fucking love her.” He lit the cigarette and slammed the car into drive and we shot off with another squeal of burning rubber.
“Yeah.” I shouted back as he veered out of the parking lot and started driving about thirty miles above the speed limit along the road that bordered the back of the campus. An orange grove stretched for miles in the distance on the other side of the road, and I found myself clutching the dashboard.
A light changed and he slammed on the brakes, throwing me forward. He turned the volume down, and gave me that grin again. “Sorry. I like speed.”
“It’s okay,” I replied weakly. I uncapped my Coke bottle and took a long swig, listening to my heart thumping in my ears. “I might have to change my underwear at some point, but it’s okay.”
“Good one!” He threw his head back and laughed. “Really. I’m sorry. I forget sometimes to be a little more respectful when other people are in the car. When I’m by myself heading home, I really open her up going down the grapevine. There’s nothing like driving fast in a car that knows how to handle it.” He went on, “My dad has a Aston Martin, you know, like James Bond? Sometimes he lets me drive it out to our place in Palm Springs. That baby can fly.”
The light changed, and he drove through the intersection at a normal, law-abiding speed, for which I was grateful. He drove down a few more blocks, and then turned left, driving alongside the parking lot of the football stadium. About halfway down the block he