Boy Toy Chronicles
Page 23
“You stay miserable.”
“And C?”
“We focus all your energy on throwing Uniballer a ball-bag themed welcome home party.”
I choose option A.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Why are you boys in a school bus?” Mom asks when we pick her and Dad up on the way to Allie’s The Grand.
“My dad's a bus driver,” Shem tells them. Complete fucking lie, I'm sure. But I don't ask. The less I know, the less chance there is of me being charged as an accomplice.
I'm not nervous.
Much.
I have a plan.
Kind of.
*
Shem pulls into the parking lot, hitting a couple of trashcans on the way.
Apparently, there's absolutely no sound in the entire world more frightening that a bunch of rowdy twenty-something males dressed in camo with painted faces. At least according to the Maître De at the front of the restaurant. “You guys can't come in here! Do you have a reservation! We have a dress code!”
Shem smirks at the barely legal girl behind the podium. “You have extremely beautiful eyes,” he murmurs. And that’s pretty much our all clear.
Swear it—she actually says the word 'swoon' and holds a hand to her heart.
Stupid accent.
The boys and I, plus my parents, quickly shuffle through the tables and chairs, my eyes frantically scanning for Allie and her family.
“Fuck yeah a stage!” one of the boys yells.
By now, a bunch of waiters and some other guys dressed in suits are rushing towards us.
“Get on the stage. Do your thing,” Chase says, shoving me forward. “We got you.”
I run to the stage and jump on. The rest of the boys make a barrier, arms crossed and legs apart. No one can get through. My heart's pounding and I'm sweating like a blind dyke in a fish market.
I tap the microphone that's front and center. Nothing.
The manager's yelling now.
I continue to search the crowd, looking for the sea of red hair I'm so desperate to find.
From the corner of my eye, I see Chase shake hands with one of the waiters. The waiter’s hand goes directly in his pocket and he nods once. He moves to the side of the stage and flicks a few buttons, causing the microphone to screech on.
If I didn't have the entire restaurant’s attention already, I sure as shit did now.
I clear my throat, the sound echoing loudly through the air.
I still can't see her.
“Just go,” Chase yells, his phone out and the flash on. I guess he's recording. If she's not here, at some point, I'm sure she'll see it.
I breathe out, the sound of it again amplified through the speakers.
I look at my mom and dad, the confusion and onset of disappointment evident in their eyes. I told them we were taking them out for dinner. I'm sure this isn't what they were expecting. But they're part of my plan and I need them here.
I wave my hand at them, motioning for them to join me.
The manager's on his phone now; most likely to the cops.
“Tyler Conner West! You better start explaining yourself,” Mom reprimands.
“Go!” Chase yells.
“Okay!” I shout back, causing the speakers to crackle.
I blow out one final breath before I lose the courage to lay my heart on the line.
“Um…” Sweat trickles down my neck, catching on my collar. Fuck, I'm a mess. Somehow, I collect myself enough to carry on. I speak as if I'm talking to Allie, even though I can't see her. I clear my throat again. “My life changed when I was ten. I walked into the classroom with my Batman comic book under my arm and stopped in my tracks when I saw a sea of red hair. You were sitting in my seat, but I didn't tell you that. I just sat down on the empty seat next to you. I couldn't take my eyes off you. I think at the time it's because your hair was glowing from the sun and I thought you might be radioactive. But then you faced me. And you smiled. ‘I'm Allie,’ you said. ‘I'm new.’ I remember arguing with myself over who was prettier; You or Poison Ivy. I chose you. I'd still choose you. Before I could a word out, our teacher walked in and introduced you to the class. Brad Stoner yelled out, ‘Hubba hubba.’ It was the first time I ever wanted to punch someone.”
I pause to take a calming breath, only now realizing that I had the full attention of everyone in the room, but I still couldn't see her.
“Anyway,” I continue, “That afternoon, I sat behind you on the school bus, completely on purpose, just so I could see your hair. We got off at the same stop and I practically ran to my mom's car. The second I got in I pointed you out to her. You were wearing a light blue dress with flowers around the waist and buttons down the middle. I said to Mom, ‘That's Allie. She's new.’ Mom smiled at me.”
I take a step to the side and motion for mom to stand next to me. She does, but she hesitates. “Mom, do you remember what I said next?”
She nods and softly clears her throat before leaning into the microphone. “You said, ‘I'm going to marry her one day.’”
I exhale loudly, my eyes scanning the Allie-less crowd and my confidence waning. I look over at Chase. He holds the camera higher so I know that he's still filming. “Keep going,” he says, giving me a thumbs up.
So I do.
“Two weeks later we'd become best friends. You were all I thought about. All I talked about. I asked you if your mom and my mom could become best friends so that we could always be together. You told me that your mom had died when you were little and it was just you and your dad and your brothers.” I swallow nervously. “I came home that night and spoke to my dad.” I indicate for my dad to stand on the other side of me. “Do you remember what I'm talking about?”
“And C?”
“We focus all your energy on throwing Uniballer a ball-bag themed welcome home party.”
I choose option A.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Why are you boys in a school bus?” Mom asks when we pick her and Dad up on the way to Allie’s The Grand.
“My dad's a bus driver,” Shem tells them. Complete fucking lie, I'm sure. But I don't ask. The less I know, the less chance there is of me being charged as an accomplice.
I'm not nervous.
Much.
I have a plan.
Kind of.
*
Shem pulls into the parking lot, hitting a couple of trashcans on the way.
Apparently, there's absolutely no sound in the entire world more frightening that a bunch of rowdy twenty-something males dressed in camo with painted faces. At least according to the Maître De at the front of the restaurant. “You guys can't come in here! Do you have a reservation! We have a dress code!”
Shem smirks at the barely legal girl behind the podium. “You have extremely beautiful eyes,” he murmurs. And that’s pretty much our all clear.
Swear it—she actually says the word 'swoon' and holds a hand to her heart.
Stupid accent.
The boys and I, plus my parents, quickly shuffle through the tables and chairs, my eyes frantically scanning for Allie and her family.
“Fuck yeah a stage!” one of the boys yells.
By now, a bunch of waiters and some other guys dressed in suits are rushing towards us.
“Get on the stage. Do your thing,” Chase says, shoving me forward. “We got you.”
I run to the stage and jump on. The rest of the boys make a barrier, arms crossed and legs apart. No one can get through. My heart's pounding and I'm sweating like a blind dyke in a fish market.
I tap the microphone that's front and center. Nothing.
The manager's yelling now.
I continue to search the crowd, looking for the sea of red hair I'm so desperate to find.
From the corner of my eye, I see Chase shake hands with one of the waiters. The waiter’s hand goes directly in his pocket and he nods once. He moves to the side of the stage and flicks a few buttons, causing the microphone to screech on.
If I didn't have the entire restaurant’s attention already, I sure as shit did now.
I clear my throat, the sound echoing loudly through the air.
I still can't see her.
“Just go,” Chase yells, his phone out and the flash on. I guess he's recording. If she's not here, at some point, I'm sure she'll see it.
I breathe out, the sound of it again amplified through the speakers.
I look at my mom and dad, the confusion and onset of disappointment evident in their eyes. I told them we were taking them out for dinner. I'm sure this isn't what they were expecting. But they're part of my plan and I need them here.
I wave my hand at them, motioning for them to join me.
The manager's on his phone now; most likely to the cops.
“Tyler Conner West! You better start explaining yourself,” Mom reprimands.
“Go!” Chase yells.
“Okay!” I shout back, causing the speakers to crackle.
I blow out one final breath before I lose the courage to lay my heart on the line.
“Um…” Sweat trickles down my neck, catching on my collar. Fuck, I'm a mess. Somehow, I collect myself enough to carry on. I speak as if I'm talking to Allie, even though I can't see her. I clear my throat again. “My life changed when I was ten. I walked into the classroom with my Batman comic book under my arm and stopped in my tracks when I saw a sea of red hair. You were sitting in my seat, but I didn't tell you that. I just sat down on the empty seat next to you. I couldn't take my eyes off you. I think at the time it's because your hair was glowing from the sun and I thought you might be radioactive. But then you faced me. And you smiled. ‘I'm Allie,’ you said. ‘I'm new.’ I remember arguing with myself over who was prettier; You or Poison Ivy. I chose you. I'd still choose you. Before I could a word out, our teacher walked in and introduced you to the class. Brad Stoner yelled out, ‘Hubba hubba.’ It was the first time I ever wanted to punch someone.”
I pause to take a calming breath, only now realizing that I had the full attention of everyone in the room, but I still couldn't see her.
“Anyway,” I continue, “That afternoon, I sat behind you on the school bus, completely on purpose, just so I could see your hair. We got off at the same stop and I practically ran to my mom's car. The second I got in I pointed you out to her. You were wearing a light blue dress with flowers around the waist and buttons down the middle. I said to Mom, ‘That's Allie. She's new.’ Mom smiled at me.”
I take a step to the side and motion for mom to stand next to me. She does, but she hesitates. “Mom, do you remember what I said next?”
She nods and softly clears her throat before leaning into the microphone. “You said, ‘I'm going to marry her one day.’”
I exhale loudly, my eyes scanning the Allie-less crowd and my confidence waning. I look over at Chase. He holds the camera higher so I know that he's still filming. “Keep going,” he says, giving me a thumbs up.
So I do.
“Two weeks later we'd become best friends. You were all I thought about. All I talked about. I asked you if your mom and my mom could become best friends so that we could always be together. You told me that your mom had died when you were little and it was just you and your dad and your brothers.” I swallow nervously. “I came home that night and spoke to my dad.” I indicate for my dad to stand on the other side of me. “Do you remember what I'm talking about?”
