Chapter 84

Tuesday, July 17

It seemed like almost every day of my summer vacation had included some kind of lifechanging event. I could only imagine what my evening with Staci Patterson would bring.

By her own admission, she’d been waiting for a night with me for nearly six weeks. I just hoped she hadn’t built the event up to be more than I could deliver. Even her powerbroker father had resigned himself to the inevitability that I was about to bed his daughter.

Before any of that was going to happen, I had another day to get through. Breakfast followed by the morning workout got things started. It just seemed ominous that George Patterson was hitting range balls with Coach Tucker and Coach Bennett when I arrived to do my stretching. I mentally heaved a sigh of relief when they were called for their tee time before we finished our gassers.

Those of us not on cabana duty today went ahead and got our lower-body workout in, then I wrapped up my morning by pushing myself a bit on the run home. I’d just finished in the shower when Arlene texted me to invite me to lunch at No. 16. She had some modeling assignments to discuss.

I dressed for the pool — cargo shorts and a T-shirt — and drove to the club. Arlene was wearing her black maillot and had a few of the Gang of Eight girls in tow. Callie Dawson was conspicuous by her absence, but Bethany Metzger and Erin Aguilar were more than willing to pay me some attention.

We all sent an order to the snack bar with Willie while I made sure there were enough drinks, running to the stockroom to grab an extra six-pack of Diet Dr Pepper for the girls. After we ate, Arlene took me into the cabana — making sure the sliding door and curtain were wide open to assure any busybodies that nothing untoward was going on.

She produced a folder with some samples from shoots similar to what I was being offered. It looked like pretty much the same kind of deal as my previous shoot for Julia, but without the emphasis on Holiday themes.

The redheaded goddess explained who the shoot was for, how long I could expect it to take and what my rate would be. No surprises there.

“Be at Julia’s studio at 8 a.m. Saturday,” she said. “It’s supposed to wrap Sunday evening. And try not to fuck Marie again.”

Not without a rubber, anyway, I thought to myself.

Arlene mentioned she had a meeting planned with Mr. Patterson and Mrs. Metzger to discuss my situation with Marie and Julia. We concluded our business by 2 p.m. and I excused myself to start preparing for my date, getting kisses from Bethany and Erin A. before I left.

The first thing I did after leaving the club was take the Beemer to be washed and detailed. That took almost two hours and the better part of two Franklins, but I thought it would be worth it for tonight. And it would probably hold up through the next two afternoons with Erin and Bethany all the way until I saw Morgan this weekend.

I took another shower upon returning home, laid out my outfit — charcoal slacks, blue Oxford cloth shirt with a yellow tie and a navy blazer — and began getting ready. It took me three tries to get the fox to chase the rabbit around the tree and down the hole, but I eventually executed an acceptable four-in-hand. That actually put me a little behind schedule, but I was able to make it to the Pattersons’ on time with my gift riding in a fancy little bag in the passenger seat.

Staci looked fantastic. I got the feeling she’d spent the day at a spa and salon getting even more work done than I’d put the Beemer through. She’d had her brunette hair trimmed to between chin- and shoulder-length and had a body wave applied. The dress was a chic blue number that complimented her eyes and she had matching sandals with a modest heel. I didn’t know what label the dress was, but I got the feeling it cost more than what most 16-year-olds had in their closet.

Mrs. Patterson insisted on getting photos. Mr. Patterson and I behaved ourselves and did as we were told.

“Get used to it, son,” he said quietly as we were grouped in the umpteenth different configuration. “Women live for this stuff.”

We were allowed to escape just in time to make it to the club, where the varsity cheerleaders and the available members of the Gang of Eight were joined by some of Staci’s other friends. I was surprised by the number of girls who brought dates. Most of the cheerleaders were paired up with football players, including a few of the cabana attendants. Jed was on hand with Keri and Erin B., while Kacie had Danny Pomeroy in tow. Callie Dawson sure seemed to be standing awfully close to Hunter Reynolds to not be on a date, but I wasn’t about to say anything.

Mr. and Mrs. Patterson and some of the other parents, including Mom and Dad, arrived shortly after Staci and I did. Arlene, along with Jan and Meredith Metzger, came by to offer birthday wishes before taking a table on the opposite side of the dining room.

The dining room staff had put a few long tables together along the far wall for our group and everybody found a seat.

The meal was a grilled chicken breast smothered in some kind of savory sauce over wild rice. I don’t know if it was special for tonight or something Chef Maurice had in his regular rotation, but I wouldn’t mind having it again.

We soon adjourned to the teen lounge, where a cake with 16 candles was waiting. Mr. Patterson felt compelled to make a little speech about how his daughter was becoming a lovely young woman, kissed her on the cheek and presented her with her first gift — a keyring with a key and a Chevrolet badge.

Staci squealed excitedly and went to a window, shrieked even louder and raced outside as fast as she could on heels. The entire party followed her to find a black Colorado club cab pickup with an outrageous pink bow on the hood.

“At least it wasn’t a Corvette,” I heard my dad mutter behind me. “Kacie never will shut up about what she should be getting for her birthday as it is.”

I didn’t look to see if it was Mom or my sister who applied the ensuing whack on the arm, but it sounded like it may have been both.

Staci cranked it up and took a slow turn around the parking lot, then all the other girls — and I mean every damn one of them — had to take a seat and check out the interior. It was a good half hour before everyone wandered back inside for the cake and the rest of the presents.

After the candles were lit and blown out, the cake was cut and served and more gifts were unwrapped. Staci had to stop and hug and thank the giftgiver each time, while Mrs. Patterson stowed the offerings in a large box to take home. There were a lot of CDs and DVDs as well as accessories for clothing, hair, cell phones and all kinds of things that are apparently vital to the care and well-being of the modern 16-year-old girl.

It finally got around to my gift and Staci grinned expectantly when she saw the quality of giftwrapping. She pulled the atomizer and its rhinestone-encrusted case out first, took just a moment to figure out what it was and smile appreciatively.

“That was very thoughtful,” she said as she kissed me on the cheek.

“There should be one other item in there,” I said, which caused her to rummage around until she found the little box containing the bottle of perfume.

“You shouldn’t have gotten me this,” she gasped when she saw the label. “Mademoiselle would’ve been more my style. I won’t be able to wear this until, like, prom.”

All the other girls oohed and aahed, a couple of them giving me speculative looks. Mom sidled up behind me.

“A bit much, don’t you think?” she said quietly.

“It’s what the saleslady recommended,” I said. “I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“Next time, call me,” she said. “Now you’re going to have to explain to Morgan why you’re taking Staci to prom.”

I failed to see the connection, but then, I’m a guy.

The party began winding down about 8:30. Staci hugged all her friends one last time while I carried the box of gifts out to the Mercedes for Mrs. Patterson. She thanked me with a kiss on the cheek and Mr. Patterson shook my hand and reminded me of his daughter’s curfew. I thought it odd that Staci’s new pickup was already gone, but Mr. Patterson said one of “his people” had taken care of it.

I went back inside to retrieve my date and bid farewell to my parents and friends. Apparently, the six members of the Gang of Eight not entrusted to my care tonight were gathering in our family room to plot further mischief.

Staci collected a little tote bag I had not noticed earlier — she sure didn’t have it when I picked her up at her house — hooked my arm and steered me toward the exit. I unlocked the Beemer as soon as we were in range and held the door for my date as she climbed in. I dropped the top, cranked up and asked her if she had anywhere she wanted to go. She gave me whatever you would call the Sweet 16 version of the Mom look.

I headed to the apartment, which seemed to meet with her approval.

I held the door open for Staci, who promptly began setting things up to her liking. She cranked the AC, turned on a couple of lamps and pulled scarves out of her bag to drape over them. She then pulled out her phone and a power cord, setting the phone on the nightstand and bending down to plug it in.

“I’ll be back in a minute, don’t go anywhere” she said as she gave me a little kiss, then grabbed a hanger with clips on it and headed to the bathroom with her bag.

She returned wearing the bikini she’d worn at the club the day Aaron Jenson had coldcocked me and carrying a couple of towels. After laying out the towels, she picked up her phone, poked at the screen a few times, then set it down.

“Barry White ain’t gonna work tonight,” she said as an old Alabama song began playing. “Now, I’ve got one more present to unwrap.”

Staci pushed the blazer off my shoulders and draped it over the back of the easy chair. After loosening my tie, she began unbuttoning my shirt.

“I’ve been thinking of this since the day I met you,” she said as she trailed fingers around my chest.

“You mean the day Aaron stole your top?” I asked.

“The day before that,” she said, “when we all had you apply our sunscreen. Your hands felt so strong. And you were such a nice guy about it. You didn’t even try to cop a feel.

“I think most of the girls who didn’t have boyfriends would have gone out with you that night. What happened the next day just confirmed it.”

By now, the shirt and tie had joined the blazer. Staci then knelt and slipped off my loafers and socks. That put her at the right height to unfasten my belt and slacks. I was left standing there in just my boxers.

If George Patterson was going to have a change of heart, he’d damn sure better hurry up.

Staci took my hand and led me to the bed as her phone continued its playlist of country love songs. She reclined on the mattress and tugged on my arm to get me to join her. It only took one tug.