RE: Trailer Trash, 66 pt 7 (Patreon)

    “What time is it?” Bobby asked, looking across the driveway again.

    “Time for you to quit askin’ what time it is and play,” Jacob muttered as he lunged in and tried to steal the ball.

    Gary didn’t stop dribbling the basketball as he twisted and juked, and after it became clear Jacob wasn’t going to let him squeeze by on that side of the driveway he managed to feint a pass towards Lurch and then instead throw the ball towards the empty side of the dusty half-court they had set up. Where Lurch intercepted the ball anyways, three enormous bounding steps carrying him across what felt like too wide a distance and allowing him to snatch the ball out of the air. Bobby felt like a young kid again trying to defend the hoop against his much older brother Joe here, because with casual ease Lurch was able to toss the ball over him and into the hoop for easy points.

    “He’s just tryin’ to distract us,” Gary laughed. “Lurch and me’re the ones keepin’ time.”

    “Naw, I really do wanna know,” Bobby protested, rubbing his wrist in frustration. “Got my eye on the big game, like the bigger picture, dawg. You wouldn’t understand.”

    Bobby had a cool watch, a Casio calculator watch with its impressive tiny row of miniature buttons he’d gotten for Christmas back in ‘96. Unfortunately it had been a long time since he remembered to wear it, and today it was somewhere atop the mess on his dresser back home. Glancing around again he saw that Brett wore one of the more boring standard normal waterproof Casios, and then Gary wore a particularly sporty Nike Triax that looked sleek and professional.

    “Teams, teams,” Jacob protested with a huff. “Bobby-boy’s fuggin’ dead weight.”

    “Agggghhh—” Bobby groaned. “Listen. Okay, so I’m a tiny bit off my game today, but when—”

    “Tiny bit, he says,” Gary grinned. “Bobby and Lurch, then. C’mon.”

    It wasn’t difficult to admit that of the boys present, Bobby was the least experienced player. Jacob was good, and Gary was genuinely great, the guy lived and breathed for the game. Brett—Lurch—was just about as skilled as Jacob, but his natural reach and height advantages were so stupendously exaggerated that he was an absolute monster to play against. The only team-ups that were remotely fair were different variations of Gary versus Brett, because Gary could be scary aggressive in getting the ball, and then once he got it he could hunker down low and still move fast across the court. Gary could still play incredibly well while keeping the ball far below where Brett could comfortably reach without sacrificing his balance.

    Of course, even for Gary getting the ball from down low to actually successfully shoot a hoop without Brett appearing out of nowhere to grab it or slap it out of the way was no picnic. It seemed like anywhere on the court was just a few easy steps away for Brett, the dude was almost everywhere at once. He could seemingly still just reach across and grab the ball out of the air for the scant few places he wasn’t. Bobby liked basketball, and there was no real play here for him—he just wanted to know what time it was, and he wanted Liam to hurry up and arrive.

    They played another set, this time with Bobby acting as Brett’s support—Gary and Jacob both stuck to Brett like glue, which made it easy for Lurch to pass it well over their reach to Bobby. Jacob was slow or maybe unwilling to disengage from Brett, but Gary was all over Bobby in an instant, a shark who’d scented blood. Bobby hugged the outside for a few seconds and actually managed to dribble the ball behind his back while juking and leaning away from Gary’s attempts to steal—but Gary was putting on too much pressure, and Bobby knew he’d lose the ball if he tried to hold it for any longer. He darted to the side just clear of Gary’s reach, and passed the ball to the empty side of the driveway.

    Brett appeared there in the vacant space, barely slowed from having to jostle past Jacob. The freakishly tall teen grabbed the ball out of the air, and then tossed it into the net. There was something easy and casual about the way the guy always did that which made Bobby want to scowl, even when he and Brett were on the same team.

     “Phhhhewwww you dirty sumbitch,” Jacob heaved for breath. “Fuck.”

    Bobby may not be the best player or even a good player, but anyone watching them play for a few minutes would realize that on a smaller half-court-sized driveway like this, all you need to do is put the ball where everyone wasn’t, and then Brett would magically materialize there. Somehow. It was actually probably a strategy that put way too much stress on Brett to use for a whole real game, but for now the guy still seemed to be doing alright.

    “Not bad, not bad,” Gary said. “See? Bobby-boy, you do okay when you keep your head in the game. Now keep your head in the game.”

    “Bullshit,” Jacob swore. “That was all Lurch. Again.”

    “S’just a little past eleven,” Brett glanced as his watch. “She said, what—noon? Noon-ish?”

    “Think so,” Jacob huffed. “We got her address, right?”

    “We should probably actually ease up, then,” Brett shrugged. “Get quick showers at least. You know?”

    “I mean, we don’t gotta show up right on time,” Gary scoffed. “We can be fashionably late. Play for another hour or so. If—”

    “Nah man, I’m done,” Bobby immediately threw in the towel. “Gonna shower.”

    “You been done, man,” Jacob chuckled. “What time is it? How does my hair look? When’s my fairy godmother gonna show up with glass slippers and a pumpkin carriage?”

    “Yeah, where is Liam?” Gary asked. “Thought we could get him in for a few rounds before we head over.”

    “He know where this is?” Brett asked.

    “He’s been by before,” Gary paused. “I think? Yeah, he has.”

    “He’ll be here,” Bobby said. “Don’t y’all go doubting my fairy Godmother, a’ight?”

    “Who all’s gonna be there?” Jacob groused. “At the thing. Besides us. Buncha girls? Freshmen?”

    “Hey man chill—same game, different court,” Gary said. “Find you some cutie, shoot your shot. S’not complicated, ‘less you make it complicated.”

    “Complicated if a bunch of her friends are all crowdin’ in an’ goin’ hard on defense,” Jacob griped. “You remember back when me and Shandy—”

    “Hey, it’s a party,” Gary said. “Right? If they’re there, they’re there to play ball, I figure. So, let’s play ball.”

    “Let’s play ball,” Brett agreed.

    “You tryin’ to be after that Elena chick?” Gary asked. 

    “I’ll see if she’s interested,” Brett said. “We’ll talk, sure.”

    “Cool, cool,” Gary nodded. “That means—Bobby’s on Tabitha, there, then it’s on me and Jacob for everyone else.”

    “Pshaw,” Jacob pshawed. “Yeah, right.”

    “Nah, I’m bein’ for real,” Gary insisted. “You play with us, you’re gonna be a proper wingman. Get our boys whatever one-on-one time they need with they girlies. A’ight? Then, next time, or whatever time it is when you or me got somebody in mind and need that, it’ll be our turn and they’ll scratch our backs. S’how it works. For real.”

    “For real?” Jacob sighed.

    “For real.”

    “Yeah yeah, we’ll see. We’ll see.”

    “Girls,” Brett chuckled. “Man, they really do just sort of uh. Form up against you, all iron curtain like. Like, s’hard for me to even imagine getting a chance to actually talk to Elena at school. Without well, without everyone else being all up in our business for it.”

    “Just talk to her,” Jacob rolled his eyes. “Fucking dweeb. ‘Stead of making excuses.”

    “Man, I want to,” Brett sounded exasperated. “S’like—that’s what she’s waiting for. But, then in that class we have together? It’s like everyone else is right there waiting to pounce in on that, too. With some bullshit or other. If there were—”

    Bobby wasn’t able to hear the rest as he headed back inside Gary’s house, but even only hearing part of it gave him plenty to think about. He’d wanted this whole thing to be a one-on-one date between him and Tabitha, and now it was instead a group celebration thing. It wasn’t that he disliked Tabitha’s friends, Alicia and Elena at least. Just, it wasn’t the same. He wasn’t comfortable being completely candid with his feelings for Tabitha while they had a peanut gallery of unimpressed goth friends or smirking art girls.

    Personal Fitness in the mornings at school should have been a super easy opportunity to spend time alone with Tabitha—it was a class with lots of free time to jog around the track together or rest periods where they could sit with one another. Only, those opportunities were also snatched away, because the circling buzzards of a whole entire clique of girls had swooped in there and gave him no room to really approach. It was so frustrating. Worse yet if those same exact girls got invited to the party today, which seemed extremely likely.

    Like most of the guys who’d popped over here for random pickup games at some point over the years and had to use the ‘loo at some point, Bobby knew where the bathroom here was. It was a nice modern bathroom with frosted window cube things that let in a ton of light, much larger than the bathroom back home, but also equally lived in, and with the random personal effects and discarded laundry from Gary or his older brothers scattered about. Borrowing a friend’s shower was always weird, but it would definitely be weirder to show up to his crush’s party gross and sweaty, so Bobby made do.

    He undressed, he figured out how to run the water with the unfamiliar set of knobs, and stepped into the nice too-big feeling stall into a spray of water that seemed strange and course, like the water pressure here was different or perhaps the shower head was too far removed from the one he was used to. Scrubbing himself down was squirting bodywash from a bottle into his palm and then going through the usual motions of cleaning up. There were two different shampoos here, so he gave them each a sniff and then borrowed a tiny bit of whoever here used the citrus-smelling one. Probably Gary’s brother.

    Afterwards, he found that the bathroom closet had a folding door which always stood open, and there he grabbed a clean towel from the stack there and dried off. Then, he cinched the towel around himself and walked out of the bathroom. He wasn’t scrawny or wimpy looking, and he wasn’t buff or jacked either. As a teenage dude with a pretty dead-average body he’d long since learned that no one cared, and thus there was nothing to be shy about.

    “Hey, shower’s free for whoever’s goin’ next,” Bobby called.

    “Me,” Brett volunteered.

    Brett and Gary were chilling in the living room with Liam now, and Jacob was nowhere in sight—probably having walked back to his house to shower there. Gary’s living room here had plush, brand new couches and recliners situated around a large TV, and Liam was pulling folded clothes out of a paper grocery bag to plop down onto a coffee table.

    “Bobby, got you somethin’ nice,” Liam said. “Well. Actually that same one I always lend you, but hey—we know it fits, right?”

    “Hell yeah,” Bobby advanced and grabbed a polo shirt he recognized. “You’re a life saver, man. My fairy godmother.”

    It was a dressy dark shirt, the one he borrowed to wear to church with Liam’s family whenever he wound up spending the night over there after late nights playing Tekken 3 or Twisted Metal 2. It had a collar he could pop up, two buttons he could leave open, and then it was dark gray at the shoulders and beneath that it was black and gray horizontal bars which repeated on downward in thick stripes. A fresh pair of boxers, a mismatched pair of ankle socks, and a clean pair of jeans completed the ensemble.

    “Now, for Lurch I pulled out all the stops,” Liam said. “This one’s my dad’s.”

    Presented next was a loud orange Hawaiian shirt with a repeating flowers and orchids motif in bright blues, greens, and yellows.

    “Aw, hells to the yeah,” Brett agreed, holding it up by the shoulders so he could appreciate it. “Liam man, I love you.”

    “Then, for Gary—” Liam pulled out a t-shirt and unfolded it across the table so they could see the design. 

    BIG SLAM The Ultimate Pepsi, in large brightly colored letters, while a silly smirking Shaq with eyebrows raised was depicted in the act of knocking back a can of soda. Grab it! Slam it! cartoon text along the bottom completed the garish look.

    “Pfft, are you for real?” Gary couldn’t help but smile. “Broooo—”

    “Hell, if you don’t want it, I’ll wear it,” Bobby said. “You may not recognize our lord and savior Shaquille O’Neal since he left the Orlando Magic, but—”

    “Yeah man, let’s trade,” Brett offered. “You wear the luau shirt, I’ll squeeze myself into this bad boy. Might uh, might wind up not covering everything, but—”

    “Hold up, hold up now, didn’t say I wouldn’t wear it,” Gary held up his hands. “Don’t get your panties all in a twist. I’ll fuckin’ wear it.”

    “Big pair of slacks for Brett, with a belt since no clue on your size there,” Liam said, very carefully taking out the next bundle. “Boxers might be tight on you, but hey they’re clean. You’ll have to make it work, man. Gary man, sorry—didn’t bring pants for you.”

    “I’ll make it work,” Brett replied with confidence.

    “Yeah, naw man I’m good on pants,” Gary chuckled. “Got nice new shoes, too, you’ll see.”

    “Finally, swiped all the cologne,” Liam revealed, slowly unrolling the slacks to reveal they’d been wrapped around a series of glass bottles to protect them. “Tommy Hilfigure—that one’s brand new, just this Christmas. Barely even used any, yet. This little green one’s a favorite, that’s Stetson Sierra for Men, then—”

    “I like that one,” Bobby yoinked it. “Niiice. Love this one. Always have.”

    “—Then, we got Calvin Klein Obsession for Men,” Liam finished. “S’an older one, but hey it still packs a punch. My dad’s. Lastly, also by Calvin Klein, we have Eternity for Men. This one’s runnin’ a bit low, I wear it at school.”

    “He know you raided his cabinet for these?” Brett rolled the cap off of the Obsession and ran the bottle under his nose for a whiff. “Your dad.”

    “Oh yeah,” Liam nodded. “Said what he always says—less is more. Very very very tiny bit on your wrist, on your neck. Do not overdo it, you’ll get your ass laughed the whole way outta the party, and everyone’ll remember it for years. There’s always the one guy who overdoes it, and ain’t nobody gonna let him live it down. Don’t be the guy.”

    “Obsession’s nice,” Brett decided as they passed the bottles around. “Eternity’s… meh? It’s alright.”

    “Meh? Meh?” Liam put on an indignant face. “Listen here, Stretch Armstrong—”

    “Hey I’m just messin’ wit’ you,” Brett laughed. “It’s alright.”

    “I got my own I’ll use,” Gary said. “Acqua Di Gio. Good shit. My brother and me, man we swear by that shit.”

    “Oh?” Liam gave the teen an appraising look. “Bring it out, lemme smell.”

    “Alright, alright,” Gary said. “Brett, you’re up for the shower, then it’s me. Mouthwash’s in there if you’re gon’ be makin’ out today. You hold that shit in ‘til it burns.”

    “You really wearing the Shaq shirt?” Brett asked. “For real?”

    “Hell fuckin’ yeah I am,” Gary sounded indignant. “He brought it for me, didn’t he? Rude not to, right?”

    “Anything for you, babe,” Liam brought his fist up, and each of the teenage boys in turn met him with a fist bump. “How much time do we got? You guys’re sure it’s even cool if I go?”