The Geek Squad

Clay and Erin lived about forty miles away, in a rural area outside of town. When I arrived, several vehicles already filled the front of their heavily wooded property, where colorful, mylar balloons floated from a split rail fence.

Just hang out for a couple hours, have a few drinks, and bail out when everyone’s too drunk to notice. It seemed a solid plan.

I found a spot to park and grabbed my backpack and the case of hard seltzers I’d brought with me. Loud music and raucous conversation carried from the backyard, along with the smoky aroma of grilled meat. I found the front door locked. A note directing guests to the backyard, so I made my way around the side of the house.

As I turned the corner, I realized I’d gone the wrong way, but had stumbled upon a group of teenaged girls hunched down by the fence near the AC condenser. I’d surprised them and, when they saw me, they hastily tried to hide whatever they’d been doing.

“Hey,” I said.

A well-endowed, red-faced girl discretely blew smoke out the side of her mouth, the pungent scent of marijuana carrying back to me. She looked me up and down.

“Who are you?” she asked, her tone wary. The timber of her voice was low and somewhat raspy. A smoker’s voice.

“Just a friend.”

She eyed me suspiciously. “Uh huh.”

She stood medium height and, like a lot of girls her age, carried a bit of extra weight. Somehow, she’d managed to squeeze herself into a red and white, candy-striped swimsuit that she’d clearly outgrown some time ago. To the point where the tie strings of her bottoms sank into the doughy flesh of her soft midsection and caused her love handles to muffin out. Her strappy top looked equally inadequate to its task, barely able to contain her large chest and forcing her breasts to bulge from the sides.

“Gate’s on the other side, right?” I asked, stating the obvious.

She stepped forward and put her hand on my forearm. At first, I’d thought she had a sunburn, but up close I saw that her face was covered in severe acne that carried down over her shoulders and chest. Her short brown hair, a messy, choppy bob with wispy bangs and blonde tips, hanged damp from a recent swim.

“Yeah ... um, look, could you do us a favor, guy?”

“Depends on what it is.”

“Just don’t say anything, okay?”

Her beseeching, wide-set brown eyes were ringed by faint smudges. Evidence of mascara or eyeliner that had bled in the pool. Despite that, and beneath all the skin blemishes, I found her round face to be kind of cute.

“Please,” she added, softening her voice.

I found her obvious attempt at manipulation amusing and couldn’t help but smile. She didn’t need to worry. I wouldn’t rat them out.

“Say anything about what?” I asked, playing dumb.

“Dude, come on,” she pleaded, not getting it. “Be cool. It’s my bestie’s birthday, you know?”

Her three friends hung back, waiting anxiously to find out if they’d been busted or not. Only then did I recognize one of them as Ashley.

“Oh shit,” I muttered under my breath.

Besides being a couple inches taller than she’d been in the picture on Clay’s desk, her body had matured in a remarkably disproportionate way. Above the waist, she looked mostly the same. The same medium-length dark hair and fringe-cut bangs, the same long, horsey face, with the same prominent buck teeth and dark-rimmed glasses, and the same narrow shoulders atop a long, slender torso, with only the barest hint of a bustline.

Below the waist, however, the changes were dramatic.

Gone were the skinny, gangly legs I’d seen in the photo. Instead, her narrow waist flared to wide, contoured hips, with thick, shapely legs and a large, round bottom to match. Her figure looked so outrageously disproportionate that it seemed as if someone had cut and pasted her head and torso onto someone else’s lower body

Ashley noticed my reaction and the unusual way I looked at her and she furrowed her brow, appearing confused. I smiled at her and she returned my smile and waved awkwardly, so I waved back. She giggled.

She was high as fuck.

“You must be Ashley, right? Happy birthday,” I said, and her smile widened into a buck-toothed grin.

“Thanks.”

“Did I hear right that you just turned sixteen?”

Ashley’s busty friend moved her hand from my forearm to my tricep and answered for her. “We’re old enough,” she said, tugging on my arm to regain my attention.

What an unusual thing to say. Then I noticed a scowl flash across her face. She must have clocked the way I’d checked out her friend and decided she didn’t like it. Either that, or she didn’t want anyone else outcompeting her for my attention.

“So, how about it?” she asked tersely.

“How about what?” I snapped back.

Despite the edge in my tone, I’d returned my attention to her, and that seemed to satisfy her. The corner of her mouth turned up and she rubbed my arm.

“Sorry. I just meant, you’re not going to say anything, right?”

Well, I guess that answered the question. She was the jealous type.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Courtney.”

I looked to where the other three girls stood and shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know, Courtney. What’s in it for me?”

I’d meant it as a joke, but the blank look on her face told me she hadn’t taken it that way. Her eyes narrowed.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

Despite the concern in her voice, she hadn’t take her hand off my arm. Instead, she tightened her grip. I decided to have a little fun with her.

“I mean, you want something from me, so what do I get in return?”

She must not have anticipated I’d respond that way, because she stood at a loss for words. After a brief, awkward pause, she responded in a voice filled with trepidation.