Woah! I knew I liked this kid. No, not kid, I realized. All these boys were in their twenties.
“I couldn’t have said it better myself.” I offered him a drink from my bottle.
“Don’t drink,” he said coolly, patting his pocket.
I offered the bottle to the other two boys, who quickly took their turn at spreading their germs across the rim of my bottle. “Shit, that’s the bomb right there yo,” Funny farmer hat boy said.
“What’s with the ‘yo,’ Farmer Fred?” I asked, retrieving my bottle and wiping the rim before downing another two or three shots.
“Oh fuck no, that’s crazy shit,” he squawked, slapping his knee as he laughed like he was in the nineteen forties.
“What’s my name?” the tall, skinny, blond asked, his chin pushed over Waldo’s shoulder to get his face in full view. It wasn’t a great face, and his laugh was even worse, similar to a snort.
“I don’t know, Butthead. What is your name?”
The boys were obviously having a good time. Waldo looked three sheets to the wind to not be a drinker. “What are you boys out doing tonight, besides looking for trouble and Waldo, obviously?” I motioned to my new friend, Waldo the intellect.
“We’re headed to a party up the road. We just came in for supplies.” Farmer Fred replied, obviously the leader of this band of misfits. “Man, you guys were robbed last season. I hope you take it all the way this season.”
“You boys even old enough to drink?” I asked, sizing them up, trying to determine an accurate guess on their age.
“Oh yeah,” Farmer Fred said. “I’m twenty-four. Waldo here was twenty-one last month. Butt Head is the old one, twenty-five.”
Fuck. I remember when twenty-five was old too.
“Gotta get our panty droppers,” Farmer Fred announced and walked into the store. Butt Head pulled a joint from his front pocket and lit it as he moved to the side of the store. “You wanna hit this?” he asked, passing it my way.
“Fuck yes I do.” I took the joint and held it to my lips, sucking the smooth smoke into my mouth and holding it in my throat for a moment before letting it out. “That’s pretty good shit for around here.” I nodded, coughed a little and took another swig from my bottle.
“Man, you should totally come party with us.” Butt Head finally had a voice.
I turned and looked back at the hotel, then back at the boys. Going with them for a little while wouldn’t hurt anything.
“Are you asking just so you won’t be the oldest anymore?” I joked.
“There’s usually quite a few old dudes gonna be there. The Chesters. They come to scope out on all the hot young girls that show up,” Waldo said with little tone to his voice. It was hard to read that boy, but I still thought of him as my favorite.
“So am I a Chester?” I hit the joint again when Butt Head passed it to me.
“No. You got too much money to be a Chester. You’re more like a pimp baller.” Butt Head put in his two cents.
“I got the shit, man.” Farmer Fred returned with the large paper bag held up over his head.
“Wow, you three are taking quite a bit of alcohol. You always have to work that hard to get pussy?” I asked.
“I don’t like drunk pussy,” Waldo announced. Just fuckin’ brilliant this one.
“We’re trying to talk Ace into coming with us.” Butt Head told Farmer Fred.
“Holy fuckin’ shit! That would be awesome!”
“This will be the blowout of the century,” Butt Head yelled out to the sky.
“You wanna come?” Waldo asked, and I thought I saw what looked like loneliness behind the hope gleaming there.
I did need to blow off some steam, and these kids seemed okay. Holly was sound asleep, so what could it hurt?
“I don’t know, fellas. My girl’s in the hotel, and she might wake up and need me.”
“Ace Newman has a girl? No fuckin’ way.” Butt Head shook his head in disbelief that I could settle down. Maybe he was right.
“Do you party?” Waldo asked, pulling a baggy of white powder from his pocket. Need sank its claws into me on sight.
“Indeed I do, boys.”
My veins ached for the drug in Waldo’s pocket. I needed that boost, that feeling of invincibility and pure adrenaline.
“Where is this party?”
I didn’t see the boys drive up and figured they were on foot, but I wasn’t playing how many drunk twenty-somethings can you get in Ace’s Porsche game again.
“Just around the corner, literally,” Farmer Fred said.
“Okay, as long as I get the party favors in Waldo’s pocket, I’ll go along.” I was already feeling the invincibility flowing, just knowing how close I was to snorting this pain away.
“I can’t believe Ace Newman is coming to a party with us,” Butt Head declared. I can’t either boys, I can’t either.
The party was literally right around the corner, not even an entire block’s walk. I felt better about being so close to the hotel, so I could always leave once I was ready.
“I bet you’re like a pussy magnet?” Farmer Fred whispered as we walked up to the door.
“Oh yes,” I laughed. “It’s a curse.”
“Okay, Waldo, hand it over.” I held out my hand, my palms sweating with greed.
Inside, I was instantly noticed, and girls swarmed me from every direction. It was like a Baskin Robbins, a flavor for every taste and size. Holy shit, I was getting old. These girls looked so fuckin’ young.
I sat down next to what I thought might be one of the Chesters, a man around my age but without money. He spread out his lines on the clear table, so I opted to use the one next to him. “Do ya mind?” I asked.
Waldo stared at me as I worked out the chunks into smooth, fluffy powder and then created four long lines. I handed Waldo a rolled up hundred-dollar bill and gave him first choice. He snorted up his lines and handed it back. My hands were shaking with need by the time it was my turn.
I inhaled, and it exploded in my head, instantly making everything alright again. This stuff wasn’t half bad. I played with the pile of powder in front of me, snorting a couple lines here and there, just small ones, nothing crazy as the music pounded all around me.
I didn’t want a repeat of Daytona Beach. I really did hit bottom there. It made me realize how bad my problem was, how right Holly was. I wanted to kick this. I wanted to be clean and try to be the man Holly deserves. I just needed this crutch tonight. Hell, my dad just died. Nobody could blame me, right?
I glanced over to Waldo and saw him watching a girl, desire in the poor kid’s eyes.
“You like her?” I asked him, and he turned red, embarrassed at being caught.
“Yeah,” he finally said.
“Go get her,” I encouraged him and he immediately shook his head. I looked back at the girl and when she looked in our direction, I motioned for her to come over.
Waldo groaned and seemed to shrink in his seat as the Barbie-doll looking girl skipped over. Her skirt was so short, I could smell her.
“Are you really a famous baseball player?” she asked.
I smirked. “Yes darlin’. I’m Ace Newman, Badass of Baseball.”
“So, you play with Calvin Malone?” she asked.
“Sure, he’s actually a good friend of mine.”