Victory Tour (Part 242) (Patreon)

The fieldhouse was buzzing when I arrived. Something was obviously up because Dad, Grandpa and George Patterson were gathered in Coach Tucker's office with Dr. Stirling, Mr. Dunwoody and Harold Chapman, the school district lawyer.

I better stay away from that shit until it couldn't be avoided. I wasn't about to be dragged into something that might endanger Karen. If they wanted me, they'd have to come get me.

I put the backpack in my locker, hung up my fleece and headed for the team room.

They must have wanted me because Coach came and got me.

"My office, please, Robinson," he said.

I took solace in the fact he said please. If I was in trouble, he would've just grabbed me and dragged me there.

Grandpa and George wore satisfied smiles when I stepped in. Dad had a rather stupefied look. Dr. Stirling and Mr. Dunwoody sported slight frowns. Mr. Chapman's expression was inscrutable, which I'd learned was pretty much the norm for lawyers. It made me wonder how Grandpa kept cleaning out Bill Richards on their poker nights.

I just stood there quietly, waiting for one of them to make the first move. Dr. Stirling finally did.

"Have any media attempted to contact you this morning?" the superintendent asked.

"Not that I've noticed," I said. "No one's approached me in the halls and my phone's been turned off since school started."

"If they do, refer all questions to Mr. Chapman," Dunwoody ordered.

"No problem," I said. "What am I not supposed to be talking about?"

"Lois Westmoreland," Mr. Chapman said.

"She was terminated from her position and arrested this morning at her office by state agents," Mr. Patterson said with a vicious grin. "That suggestion of yours bore fruit, young man. She really was directing girls toward Julia Fairchild and apparently was joining in the fun. Having a sexual predator on staff casts such a negative light on a school district."

"There is also evidence to suggest she knew how to access the modeling agency's photo servers," Mr. Chapman said. "That seems to be how she obtained the shots of you that were presented at the hearing. The whole deal was to get the Mighty Blue disqualified so one of her schools could make the playoffs."

I can't say I was unhappy at the news. It made me wonder how inclined Coach would be to call off the dogs tonight. The scout team may not get its moment to shine, after all.

"The Fairchild woman has indicated willingness to testify against Westmoreland in exchange for a deal," Grandpa said. "How do you feel about that?"

"I don't know," I said. "If she leaves the country, she'll be somebody else's problem. Is her pulling the same thing in France or Italy any better or worse than doing it here?"

"A question for the courts to decide," Mr. Patterson said. "We'd better let you get going. I understand you have an appearance to make shortly."

"Yes, sir," I said. "Thanks for the news."

I mulled the situation on my way back to the team room. Learning the butch bitch was in the clink didn't really make me feel any better. She was just getting what she deserved. And it certainly didn't lessen my desire to take it out on the Badgers.

"What'd they want?" Jed asked quietly as I rejoined my teammates.

"Apparently, there's been some fallout from my eligibility case," I said. "I was told to refer all questions to Mr. Chapman. Maybe your dad can find out from him."

"Yeah, right," my buddy snorted. "You know even if Chapman tells him anything, it'll be lawyer-to-lawyer. Dad'll never say a word to me."

Soon enough, it was time to make the walk across to the gym. The place was absolutely packed, mostly because of all the seniors' parents. The district championship trophy was placed on a pedestal in the center-court circle.

Mom, Dad, Grandma and Grandpa were waiting on me when I reached my spot. At least I didn't have to worry about Mom making a scene regarding our confrontation at the new house.

The pep rally went to script — Staci twitched her ass bewitchingly, the drill team kicked their legs high, a mangy-looking rodent that I think was meant to be a badger got pantsed by the big blue fuzzball — with the addition of seniors and their relatives being introduced. I was beyond shocked at the reaction my introduction got. The entire freshman section (well, the female half, anyway) and good portions of the sophomore, junior and senior sections went absolutely nuts.

And it wasn't like I knew all those girls. A glance at a few of the ones I did know — Morgan, Kacie, Staci, Sherry — showed them sporting smug grins. They were among the select few who had access to me and, except for Sherry, knew what it was like with me. Those other girls could only dream.

I was having a hard time believing such a response. Where'd these girls been the last few years? Oh, yeah. Junior high or even grade school.

Things were just as bad during the highlight video. My improvised "Disco package" play drew even more shrill screams when I wiggled my butt (why did the camera have to zoom in on me just then?). Mom and Grandma both gave me disapproving looks, but I don't know if it because of the wiggle or the screams.

Coach Tucker, with his hand caressing the trophy almost indecently, spoke of how the job wasn't finished yet. We had to take care of business tonight and build momentum for the playoffs. He was looking forward to adding to the collection of gold footballs. But we had to take things one step at a time.

One last cheer, the alma mater and it was time for lunch.

Which also went to script.

Except for one little thing.

"Has Rhonda Devers thanked you yet?" Miss Carla asked as she loaded me up with some extra roast beef.

"Why would Rhonda thank me?" I asked, more than a little confused.

"Never you mind, young man," my security chief said, "but if she does, just say 'you're welcome' and leave it at that, understand?"

"Uh, yes, ma'am," I stuttered. "I guess."

"Look, I exceeded my authority the other night when I took her home," Miss Carla said, leaning close and lowering her voice. "My excuse, in case anyone asks, is I was acting in the best interest of my principal. That's you."

"Uh, yes, ma'am," I repeated.

I have no clue what that was all about, but I wasn't about to push things. Miss Carla, as well as her husband and their associates, knew a myriad of ways to ensure my silence.

But Chuck got things back on script a few minutes later.

"You gonna eat all that?" the left guard asked, reaching over my shoulder to spear a piece of broccoli (I think he was actually aiming for some of the roast beef, but missed).

"Yeah, the defense is gettin' a little ornery," Jed added, reaching over the other shoulder and getting a piece of carrot.

"Take it," I sighed, glad I'd consumed enough to get me through the afternoon. I could always hit Rosa's for a pregame snack.

"Where'd you go this morning?" Mom asked as my teammates retreated with my plate.

"I left my blue team shirt at the apartment after the last home game and had to go get it," I said. "And I had a couple of assignments to finish, so I went to my first class to work on them."

"He was there when I arrived," said Grandma, who still hadn't reclaimed her sweater from Karen. "How did you do on your book report?"

"Pretty good, I think," I said. "It helped that I made all those notes. The test was pretty involved."

"That's one assignment," Mom said. "What's the other?"

"Creative Writing," I said. "I've already exceeded the required word count, but I still have a couple of things I want to get in. I'll finish it in Chemistry. If Mrs. Cohen wants me to trim it, I can do that seventh period."

"As long as it's not like that first one," Morgan snorted from beside me. "Remember, I get to read them at lunch tomorrow."

"I kinda liked that last one, though," Staci said from my other side, making me wonder when and how she'd read it. "I thought he did a good job with the romance."

"That was Rhonda Devers' doing," I said. "I just handled the guy's part of it, the action sequences."

"But you made it all fit together," Morgan said. "It wasn't obvious that two people wrote it."

"I'll have to take a look at it," Grandma said. "Where are you having lunch tomorrow?"

"Arlene's," Staci said. "We're going to help Marie with the housework while Gary helps Mr. Osborne clean out his mom's house."

Oh, hell no. In fact, hell fuckin' no! I DO NOT WANT MY GRANDMOTHER AT THAT LUNCH!!!

Before I could protest, Dad cut in with his own concern.

"Isn't it about time you got with Cody to study for your test?" he asked.

"What test?" Mom and I asked simultaneously.

"Algebra," he said. "Don't you have a test every Friday?"

"Not this week," I said. "We took it yesterday just in case the volleyball team made state. I think Mr. Henderson planned to go if they did. The only thing I have to do this afternoon is finish Creative Writing."

My father looked stunned, maybe even a little concerned. Changing the routine could have a devastating effect on the game! Don't worry, Dad. It's only the Badgers.

Still, I did have to start getting ready for my afternoon classes. Maybe I could get a little work done on the story before Mr. Henderson required my attention.

With hugs to two of my girlfriends and Grandma along with instructions to play well tonight from Dad and Grandpa, I headed to the locker room to get my stuff. Coach Rogers was already putting out uniforms for tonight. We'd wear all blue again at home. I noticed he included the long-sleeved undershirts. Good. It was supposed to be pretty cool tonight.

My desire to get to work on Creative Writing was thwarted when Mr. Henderson required my attention the moment I entered the room.

"Tell me about this independent study thing," he said.

I basically repeated what I'd told Mrs. Edwards this morning (shoulda just recorded it instead of repeating myself), but did tailor my comments to fit his subject.

"I figured I'd just work all the problems every chapter," I said. "I'll still have Cody in study hall in the evenings and Zoe brought her notes this week. I'll see if she's willing to keep doing that. And Morgan Ensberry said she'd help me."

"It's almost like you don't even need me," he snorted, which was pretty close to the truth, I thought. "I'll send Mr. Fischer (is that Cody's last name?) with any messages for you, but if you're going to work all the problems every week, that'll easily cover the homework. Just don't expect to get too far ahead. I don't make out tests until Thursdays."

"Yes, sir," I said, thinking this thing was sure coming together quickly.

I took my seat as more students came in. As soon as the bell rang, roll was taken and Henderson passed out our tests for review. I got a 93, assuring me another A. All of my mistakes were on things from the end of the chapter.

The review itself didn't take long. There were very few questions. I guess the students who missed very many were beyond caring at this point.

With a good 30 minutes remaining in the period, I pulled out the laptop and got back on the story.

Billy Bob pondered the situation as he drove Katya back to the house. The one thought running through his mind was if she was this hot in a bedraggled condition, what was she going to be like all dolled up?

Better not even go there, he told himself. She'd already expressed intent (and shown ability) to deal with the last slob who'd tried to hit on her.

His thoughts turned to what was in the trailer and under that tarp. Was that really bales of $100 bills he saw just before she pounced on him? And the tarp covered what was obviously some kind of vehicle. He could only dream of what kind of fancy ride a Russian mobster would have.

He'd need to do something about the trailer, at least. Maybe his buddy Jimmy Jack, a long-haul trucker, was back from his latest run.

"You haf guns," Katya said, interrupting his reverie.

"Just what's on the gunrack, there," Billy Bob said.

The rack in the rear window held his old huntin' rifle, which was mostly used to deal with varmints, and an even older shotgun that he occasionally used for dove and quail, but mostly more varmints. Snakes and skunks were its usual targets.

"Ve need gun shop," she said, almost making Billy Bob ask "What's this 'we' shit, Comrade?"

He pulled around the back of the house where he usually parked. He could probably count the number of times he'd entered the house through the front door. His mother was quite protective of her living room. Her son and husband could come in through the mudroom like all the other animals.

He guided Katya to the bathroom and set her up with towels and such, then waited outside the door until she handed him her clothes. He'd put the tracksuit and undergarments she wore in the washer while she bathed. Nothing he owned would fit her — his shirts wouldn't contain those boobs and his pants probably wouldn't go over on her hips, wide as they were. And he wasn't even about to think of looking through his mom's stuff. If he wanted to die, it'd be easier just to make a grab at Katya. 

The bell ending the period caught me by surprise. I saved what I'd written, loaded up and headed to Mr. Debussy's room. The first thing I did was pull out the charge cord and plug in. I'd used this thing for roughly three hours today. The battery level was almost low enough to send out its alert.

I got things set up and got back on the story. I didn't even notice Elise until the tardy bell rang. She answered for me when Debussy took roll. I was already engrossed in the story again.

With Katya's laundry taken care of, he headed to the kitchen. The girl probably needed beef, of which there was plenty in the freezer. Billy Bob didn't claim to be much of a cook, but he could grill a steak.

While waiting for the grill to heat, he called his trucker buddy. The guy was not only available, but would be glad to help out his farmer buddy. For a price. Diesel ain't free, ya know.

"I'll even throw in enough for ya to take Becky Lynn out to dinner tonight," Billy Bob promised, "And not Dairy Queen, either. You'll have to comb your hair."

"That's what caps are for," Jimmy Jack snorted.

The washer finished its cycle just after Billy Bob flipped the steak. As he moved the clothes to the dryer, he noticed Katya's lacy unmentionables weren't all that lacy. Just a sports bra and matching panties, quite utilitarian. Combined with the tracksuit, a feller'd think she'd been abducted from a gym. Or maybe that's just how she dressed when solving problems for Ivan.

Katya emerged wrapped in his mother's bathrobe. It sure never looked like that on Mom. She'd also combed the tangles out of her hair, which was still wet enough he couldn't tell the true shade.

"Have a seat," he said, flipping the steak once more. "Medium good for ya or do ya want it a little more done?"

"Medium ees goot," she said, pulling the robe tight across her bosom, which did nothing to make the situation easier for Billy Bob.

He put the steak on a plate with a couple of slices of bread, grabbed utensils and placed it in front of her, making sure to maintain a respectable distance. Turning to the fridge, he pulled out a jug of tea and poured a glass for her as she tucked in.

"Vot ees dees?" she asked, more curious than suspicious.

"Swait tay," Billy Bob said. "It's what we drank ’round here. Better for ya than too much soda pop. I don't have any beer or I'd offer ya one. I was gonna get a case when I went into town."

"Ees goot," Katya said after taking a sip.

As she devoured the steak, Billy Bob went to check on her clothes. It just felt safer to not get too close to her.

The buzzer finally went off and he carried the clothes to her in the kitchen. He just knew his mom would chastise him for not folding them first.

"I gotta run back over to the Anderson," Billy Bob said. "I need to check on thangs."

"I go, too," Katya said. "May find vere Vasily ees."

Billy Bob didn't argue. The sooner she went hunting for Vasily, the safer he'd be. But he wouldn't mind admiring those curves until she left. She seemed to enjoy playing look-but-don't-touch. He could handle that. For a little while, anyway.

Katya put the last bite in her mouth and took her clothes back to the bathroom to dress.

Billy Bob texted Jimmy Jack that he was on his way to the Anderson. It would take the trucker about an hour to get there.

Katya came out dressed, thinking Billy Bob could have at least used some fabric softener. But, she told herself, she should at least be thankful he hadn't tried to join her in the shower. Actually, he'd behaved like a gentleman, something she wasn't exactly used to. He'd even cooked for her! 

They arrived back at the Anderson with Jimmy Jack still a half hour out. Katya opened the trailer door to confirm Billy Bob's suspicions as to its contents. There were 40 pallets of cash, each containing 640 bundles. Each bundle consisted of 10 straps of 100 bills. She began pulling out bundles, several hundred thousand dollars as far as he could tell. The total amount was staggering, something around $2.5 BILLION!!! 

Then she whipped the tarp off to reveal a classic Mercedes-Benz with gullwing doors. It was when she opened the trunk that her day got very much better. A duffel bag filled the space, the partially opened zipper showing a cache of guns. 

Uzis! Glocks! And enough ammo to take care of dozens of Vasilys!

"Ve don't need gun shop," she said with a feral smile.

Billy Bob found a problem when he popped the hood. The sparkplugs had been removed. Fortunately, there was a box on the dash. He could fix that. He had a socket set in his toolbox. Even had metric sizes, which he'd need for a German car. 

He finished hooking things up as Jimmy Jack pulled up in his rig. Katya had the car running, the engine rumbling throatily, as the trucker backed up to hitch on.

"Take it to my place and drop it by the barn," Billy Bob said.

"Do not touch trailer door," Katya commanded. "Ees booby-trapped. Thees for your trouble."

With that, she held up a bundle of cash, $100,000 if Billy Bob had things figured correctly. That was a helluva lot more than he intended to pay! Becky Lynn wouldn't be eatin' at Dairy Queen again unless she just wanted to.

"Ees also for your silence," Katya said, maintaining a solid hold on the cash as Jimmy Jack reached for it. "You know nothink. Never saw me, yes?"

"Whatever you say, ma'am!" the trucker grinned madly, seizing the package. "I been home watchin' football an' drankin' beer all day! Jus' lemme know if there's anythang else I can help y'all with."

"Goot boyee," Katya grinned coyly. "Maybe ve haf more vork for you someday."

I was again caught off-guard by the bell, but was now close enough to a conclusion to finish before the end of seventh period. Just not the conclusion I originally planned on. I gave Elise a quick hug and told her I'd see her at the game, then packed up and hurried to Mrs. Cohen's room.

I don't know what my word count was now, but I needed to wrap this thing up. That meant the bit about Katya catching a glimpse of a shirtless Billy Bob (she was all aflutter at the sight, the dude was ripped!) washing up after working on the Mercedes would be left out. As would be parts where they slowly bonded on the road as she hunted down and dispatched Vasily's lackeys and eventually Vasily himself. I'd have to do the last part as a brief epilogue, but I felt I had the perfect walkoff line and was determined to get it in.

As soon as I got to the classroom, I pulled out the laptop and got back to work. It was officially crunch time.

Billy Bob in his pickup and Katya in the Mercedes followed Jimmy Jack back to the house. After helping park the trailer and unhitch, they watched the trucker drive away with a farewell blast of his airhorn.

Once he was out of sight, Katya opened the door and pulled out more bundles, a couple million dollars by Billy Bob's count. With guns and money loaded in the Mercedes, she tossed him the key.

"You drive," she commanded. "I sleep. Vake me ven get Oklahoma Ceety."

Oklahoma City?!?!?! That was five hours away! He'd better call another one of his buddies to come check on the stock the next couple of days. He hoped she'd let him come home before Wednesday. Dad would surely have something to say about him just taking off like this. 

EPILOGUE: Four days later, Billy Bob and Katya arrived on an island somewhere in the South Pacific. He thought they might be in French Polynesia based on the signage.

Vasily and the Russians had been dealt with. Dad forgave Billy Bob for desertion once he saw what was in the trailer. Katya had taken even more from Russian bank accounts during her revenge tour, stashing it in tax havens around the world. They weren't going to go hungry in their retirement.

The couple spent their days in seclusion, enjoying the tropical climate. Billy Bob developed an all-over tan. Except for the two Katya-sized handprints on his ass.

OK, that last sentence was getting cut, but I couldn't resist typing it. And the story certainly fit Prof. Silverberg's criteria. But, Good Lord! The damn thing was over 3,000 words and easily could have been twice as long!

I hit spellcheck, which created even more work for me. I'd intentionally misspelled words to reflect the characters' accents and didn't want to accidentally correct the wrong ones. I still had plenty of typos to fix.

Taking the laptop to Mrs. Cohen — she still had the thumb drive with the Ted and Addie story — I explained the situation to her and offered to cut chunks out to make Billy Bob and Katya closer to the assigned length.

"I'll just let Miles deal with it," she said. "He's liked your other stuff so far. Though I must say the one with succubi was a bit much for a high school class."

That made me wonder if she'd read the other three yet. Kreitz wasn't exactly a monk, the guy from the California Girls story got around quite a bit and Addie magically enhanced Ted to suit her desires. Other than that last line, I'd put nothing more in this one than Billy Bob finding Katya attractive. I had to junk the part where she would reciprocate.

Mrs. Cohen transferred the file from my computer to hers and handed me my thumb drive before addressing the elephant in the room.

"What are you going to do for this independent study?" she asked.

"Whatever you decide," I said. "I've already made arrangements with other teachers to get each week's assignments and I've got people in those classes I can go over things with. What time would you like me to check in with you?"

"Let me think about it," she said. "Miles is already planning to come see you next week. He's excited to be able to do that without interfering with classes."

I went back to my desk, packed up and vegged out for the rest of the period. I noticed Rhonda Devers studiously ignoring me. I briefly thought about giving the game plan another look, but decided my brain needed a rest. Besides, it was only the Badgers.

At the bell, I visited my locker for the first time today. I'd never even thought about collecting my basket of goodies the cheerleaders had left me this morning.

Someone obviously had, though.

"’Bout time you got here, dude," Jed said, reaching over my shoulder and grabbing the goodies as I put the Algebra II book in the locker. "We need a snack."

"We?" I asked incredulously, turning to see Hunter Reynolds and Luke Riley, who also had lockers in the area, reaching for treats. "Don't even try that flimsy excuse this time. At least Hunter's a tight end, but Luke's a linebacker! Shouldn't ya be protectin' my stuff from him?"

"Toldja the defense was gettin' ornery," Jed smirked before the trio walked away with my goodies.

Fuck it. If he thought taking my food and snacks really helped him play better, let him take it. I had more important things to worry about, like not letting Marshawn know what I was going to do to his little sister when grades came out in another week.

I had reading for Western Civ and English IV, but could get that stuff online. For the first time since what felt like the start of school, I didn't need to take any books home this weekend. Good. I'd lugged those things around enough this fall.

Just don't anyone let my mom find out, OK?

I strolled leisurely toward the fieldhouse, thinking I'd just camp out there until 5 o'clock. I hope there are some open tables in the training room. I needed a nap after what I'd been through today.