Chapter 114

Saturday, Aug. 11

I again awoke to a faceful of honey blonde hair. I bent down to kiss my sister on top of her head and tried to gently slide out from under her, drawing a disgruntled groan.

I went and rinsed off in the shower, brushed my teeth and put on enough clothes to go out in public. I headed to the kitchen where I found the whole clan — parents, grandparents, aunts and cousins — filling every seat and then some. Grandma had brought more cinnamon rolls and everyone was happily munching away.

“Is Kacie up yet?” Kinsey asked.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “I didn’t hear her moving around in her room. I’ll go check.”

My sister was still snuggled under the covers of my bed when I entered the room and closed the door. I gently shook her shoulder, drawing a grumpy protest. Kacie was definitely not a morning person.

“You’ve got two little cousins in the kitchen wanting to see you,” I whispered in her ear as she slowly came awake. “It probably wouldn’t be a good thing if they found you in my bed. They do tend to ask embarrassing questions.”

Kacie grumbled, but rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

“Tell them I’m in the shower,” she said. “They can wait in my room if they want.”

I rejoined the rest of the family and passed along the message, then dodged out of my cousins’ way as they raced to take my sister up on her offer. I grabbed a cinnamon roll and a glass of juice and caught up with the rest of my relatives.

Dad and Grandpa were heading for the golf course, of course. I expected I’d find them at the 19th Hole before it was all over.

The women were going car shopping. Grandma had reams of information on SUVs that could seat eight. Aunt Karen had almost as much intel on roadsters. Aunt Patty had pretty much made her decision, but was going to shop around for the best deal. Mom was driving them in the X5, but it wouldn’t surprise me to see at least one of them come home with a new ride.

Kacie, Kinsey and Kirsten — I was quickly coming to think of them as the K Squad — would spend the day at the pool with other Gang of Eight members. Kacie would have access to Dad’s Buick if they needed or wanted to go anywhere.

I, of course, would have work followed by my date with Staci. I told Mom she had a midnight curfew and was granted permission to stay over at the apartment since I’d already be in the neighborhood rather than drive home that late.

That stunned me. I don’t think such a solution would have even been voiced at the beginning of the summer, but I wasn’t about to question the ruling.

After one more cinnamon roll, I was out the door on my way to the pool. There would be plenty of sorting to do with the two deliveries that had been made since closing time last night.

There was a sense of sadness as the dozen of us working the early shift donned our uniforms. For some of the guys, this would be their final day. We’d all made good memories and even better money this summer.

It was decided Michael should get to cover No. 16 early before handing off to one of the guys on the afternoon shift about 2 p.m. I was offered the assignment for Sunday, but politely declined. I’d gotten more from Arlene these last 11 weeks than a few extra dollars in tips. Let one of the guys who needed the money handle the job. I’d stick to my backup and restocking roles.

I made the rounds of the cabanas to get the requests and returned to help finish sorting the delivery. There was so much that stacks were being made out on the patio area so there’d be space to move around in the stockroom.

Once everything was in order, each of us took two cabanas and filled their orders. Chuck made one last run to the drug store for old time’s sake and we were ready to go when Mr. Alvarez opened the gates.

If Friday had been hectic, Saturday was positively frantic. There was no lunch rush today. It was that busy from the moment patrons got to their cabanas and started flagging guys down to place orders. The cheerleaders who came on at noon were flung directly into the fray. More came on at 2 p.m. with the afternoon crew to work one last party that was expected to go until dark, if not later.

Michael let me know that my presence was requested at No. 16, where the K Squad needed an application of sunscreen. At least my cousins didn’t expect me to give them airplane rides. Kirsten was already almost as tall as Morgan had been at the beginning of the summer.

The overlap between morning and afternoon crews allowed everyone to take breaks to cool off and stay hydrated. We were definitely going to be wanting these breaks on Monday afternoon out on the practice field.

Mr. Alvarez cut the early crew loose at 4 p.m. and I went to check with Staci on her timeline. She said she was heading home as soon as Debbie Wilkes would let her. Since there were so many JV cheerleaders working the party, my date claimed she wouldn’t be missed. She would call me as soon as she was ready to go.

On my way out, I was able to tell Arlene that I had permission to stay over at the apartment if she needed a cuddle, but that Staci would probably take full advantage of her midnight curfew. I was told to come on in if the kitchen door was unlocked.

I made it home and took a long shower that cooled and cleansed. Feeling as fresh as I had all day, I went to get dressed in an Oxford cloth and khakis. I draped a tie around my neck, but didn’t attempt to tie it. I’d have to swing by the apartment to get the blazer and decided to wait until I absolutely had to tie a knot.

After getting my cowlick somewhat under control, I headed over to Arlene’s. I cranked the air conditioner to full blast and turned on the TV to see what was going on in the world.

Brooks Koepka shot a 66 to take a two-stroke lead at the PGA Championship. If he could hold on, that’d give him two majors this year and three total. The announcers were making a big deal about him having a chance to be the first golfer since Tiger in 2000 to win the Open and the PGA in the same season.

Meanwhile, in New York, the fuckin’ bastards kept finding new and inventive ways to end up on the wrong side of the scoreboard. I’ll give them credit, they held on last night, winning 12-7 after jumping out to a 5-0 lead. But on a rainy afternoon in The Bronx, all they could do was remind me they were just good enough to get beat by the really good teams.

Down 3-1 after six with it being an official game should the rain get much worse, the locals tied it in the seventh on a balk with the bases loaded. Then a guy who never quite lived up to expectations despite numerous chances took a called third strike to end the inning with runners at second and third. Then the Yankees hit a two-run homer in the bottom of the seventh.

The locals had the bases loaded in the ninth. Guess what? The fuckin’ bastard who struck out in the seventh? Did it again to end the game. Like I said, at least they were consistent.

It was about 5:45 when my phone pinged with a text from Staci. She would be ready to go by 6. That worked out almost perfectly since it took me nearly 10 minutes to get the tie tied and another few to get to the Pattersons’ house.

Staci had put forth a grand effort. She had her own version of the LBD, this one with a square neckline, the hemline just above the knee. She didn’t wear pearls, opting instead for diamond studs in her ears and a little diamond pendant on a chain. Sheer, black thigh-high stockings and black pumps completed the look. There was just a whiff of Chanel No. 5.

She could have fit in anywhere from Prairie Star Country Club to a state dinner at the White House.

Mrs. Patterson just had to get more pictures. I didn’t understand what the big deal was. It was just a date, not a special occasion. Sure, we were dressed up a bit. But with Mr. Patterson looking on, I kept my mouth shut and smiled likke I was on a modeling shoot.

“That’s enough, Carole,” Mr. Patterson said after a few minutes. “Save some pixels for next time. You two enjoy yourselves. Have her home by midnight, Gary.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, escorting Staci out the door.

I opened the passenger door and helped Staci to her seat, then went around to get in and quickly crank up. With the AC blowing cold air, Staci asked that I leave the top up for now. She tuned my radio to a station Grandpa might have chosen as we pulled out of the neighborhood, then directed me to Morton’s.

“I feel like steak tonight,” she said. “Besides, Morgan said Le Maison uses too much garlic and Arlene said the cheesecake at Morton’s is orgasmically good.”

I tried not to choke at the choice of words as I steered toward the freeway. We were at Morton’s before 7 p.m. I again splurged for the valet parking and tried not to think about all the stories I’d heard of attendants taking cars for joy rides.

Staci was impressed with the place, which kind of surprised me. I would have thought her parents would have at least brought her here once or twice over the years.

We were seated at a table out in the middle of the dining room instead of one of the little alcoves like I’d shared with Arlene. It was almost like Staci was being put on display the way heads turned as we went by. She seemed to not notice the attention. Or maybe she was just that used to it. She was quite pretty, after all.

We looked over the menu and made our selections. I was glad Staci didn’t order like her daddy was paying. Not that I couldn’t afford it — once — but she wasn’t the only female who expected me to take her to such an establishment. Of course, once school started, we’d be spending a lot more time at places like Dairy Queen.