Once Upon a Road Trip (19 page)

The sound of someone shouting jolted her awake, and confusion greeted her as she struggled to make sense of her surroundings. The low throb of rap music vibrated through every inch of the vehicle’s interior. Lifting her head, Angie realized it had been pillowed against Scott’s shoulder. Solid, but more forgiving than the window, she wasn’t surprised at where she’d migrated. But she was now alert enough to be embarrassed.

“I’m sorry.” She sat up straight and checked Scott’s shirt for signs of drool. Finding none, she felt only marginally better.

“I’m not.” Scott gave her a glib smile when she looked up. He lifted a hand to pat his shoulder and added, “It’s there whenever you need it.”

On the other side of him, Tonga groaned. “Don’t you two get all cuddly. Yosh’s driving is making me sick enough as it is.” He leaned forward, making it obvious just how much of the back seat his frame filled out. “Why can’t I be up front?”

“Cuz’ you can’t appreciate the sunroof, King Kong,” Yosh shot back.

Angie’s attention shifted to the open sunroof and James —who stood on the front passenger seat, projecting his upper body through the opening. He let out a howling cry into the night air, and it suddenly became clear what had startled her. She looked out her window at the streets of New York, where the night life was in full swing. A blonde woman navigated the sidewalk across the street, clad entirely in black leather while propped up on impossibly tall stilettos. Angie guessed James’s vocal display had been directed at her.

The cat-calling continued, as did their journey through the grid-like maze of streets. Yosh maintained an unhurried cruising speed. Though the city was lively in the small hours of the morning, traffic wasn’t as dense as it had been on their way in.

Deciding to make the most of her confined situation, Angie tried to strike up a conversation with Tonga. “So what’s it like in your country? And…where is it, exactly?” she asked, leaning forward to look past Scott.

“It’s a little island in the South Pacific, sort of near Fiji.” Tonga perked up at the inquiry. “It’s always warm. And there’s
-lots- of coconuts,” he added, seeming happy about the subject but struggling with what to say.

“Do you miss it?”

“Not usually. Most people leave the country to finish their educations, so there’s just a lot of old people and nothing to do.” He seemed to reconsider. “When it’s winter here, I miss it. Too cold for me.”

Angie cut the interview short as the SUV jerked off the road and parked in front of a tiny liquor store. James slunk back down into his seat, and the neon “spirits” sign overhead filled the vehicle with an ethereal blue glow. 

“Why’d we stop?” Scott eased forward to place the question directly into Yosh’s ear.

“So Tonga can run in and score me a fifth of vodka,” Yosh said, turning down the booming music. 

“I thought you bought a new I.D. card off Sanders,” Tonga objected. His hairline fell dramatically as he furrowed his brow.

“Yeah, but my dad caught me with it.” Yosh looked back over his shoulder and set his jaw. “Says he’s shipping me back to Tokyo if I %&*# up again. James got his pulled by that bouncer last week, and Scott ain’t legal til’ next May. So it’s on you.”

“Come on, man. Can’t you drop us off first?” Scott interjected.

“My ride, my rules.” Yosh shot back.

Tonga grunted as he left the SUV, closing the door harder than necessary. He disappeared into the store, and Yosh turned the music back up to half the original cruising volume. James rolled down his window and stretched his legs out until he’d propped them on the side mirror. While the two in the front seats bickered back and forth about who owed who a cigarette, Angie turned her attention to Scott.

“You don’t have a fake I.D.?” she asked, trying to sound casual. Angie had yet to decide if Scott’s look of apprehension was due to his friends, or his concern for how well she was tolerating their behavior. She was determined to act indifferent. At best, she reasoned that voicing her disapproval would earn her a self-righteous label. At worst, she wouldn’t put it past Yosh to kick her and Scott out in a bad part of the city.

“Not anymore.” Scott shook his head. “I can’t play the diplomatic immunity card like they can. I got in trouble enough when I first started staying at my dad’s for the school year. I was starting to make him look bad.” Scott’s tone held a twinge of resentment. “He told my mom, and she said I’d have to go back to school in Virginia if I didn’t shape up. So, I shaped up.”

“And Virginia is…bad?”

“Not bad. Just boring,” he said. “And the school system is crappy. I’d never have gotten into the college I’m going to this fall if I hadn’t been in private school.” 

“So then, Tonga’s older than you?” she presumed after a contemplative pause.

“No.” Scott hesitated, casting the front of the store an uneasy glance. “Tonga’s fifteen. But he looks a lot older and he’s the least likely to get asked to show I.D. Maybe it’s his size, I don’t know.”

“He’s only fifteen?!” Angie gaped at him. “So, this is all kinds of illegal. That’s just great,” Angie breathed out in a sigh, sparing no sarcasm. Still travel-weary, her facade of indifference crumbled. Trying to imagine how she was going to afford to post her own bail was making her downright cranky.

Scott frowned, dark brows pulling together. “Look, I’m sorry about this. I didn’t think we’d be coming back with—”

The rear right door opened and Tonga lurched in next to Scott. He entered with enough haste to make his side of the vehicle dip low before the shocks could absorb his substantial weight. “I got carded—GO!”

“What’d you tell em?” James peered back over his shoulder.

“I made like I couldn’t speak English. What else was I gonna do?” Tonga folded his arms across his broad chest as he leaned back and settled in.

Yosh pulled away from the curb and back onto the street, only to be rebuked by the horn of a taxi he’d nearly sideswiped. He growled out a series of expletives, offered up the one-finger salute, and cranked the stereo volume into the range of blaring.

After roughly ten more minutes of Yosh’s erratic driving, the SUV pulled up in front of a towering non-commercial building. Everyone exited the vehicle — Tonga to stretch his legs, and Yosh to hop onto the hood where he began puffing away at a cigarette. James pulled himself out through the sunroof and made a show of leaping off of the luggage rack at Tonga. Tonga sidestepped him, and James landed in a crouch on the sidewalk with a heavy
smack
.

Scott walked around to the back to unload bags. Angie followed to assist him, but he waved her off.

“Look at you, all helpful.” James smirked at Scott before turning his attention to Angie. “How many points does he gotta earn before he gets lucky?”

Angie was caught off guard by the question. It was all she could do not to snap back with something emasculating.

I don’t know what your problem is, but I’m sure they make a medication for it.

She stood seething for a moment, wondering how to set the boy straight without embarrassing Scott in front of his friends.

“Virgin-Scottie ain’t gettin’ lucky.” Yosh called out. “The ladies respect skill. No experience, no skill.” He took a long drag off of his cigarette before jumping off the front of the SUV and strutting toward them. “Now The Yosh,” He curled his fingers in toward himself, indicatively. “The Yosh got skills.”

“Oh, here we go—” Tonga rolled his gaze skyward and started off down the sidewalk, as though he’d spontaneously decided to take a walk. His departure was largely ignored.

Angie had reached her limit. Fists clenched at her sides, she didn’t spare Scott a glance. She wasn’t looking for permission. “First of all, nobody’s getting ‘lucky,’” she told James, eyes narrowing as she gave Yosh a more pointed look. “Secondly, plenty of women happen to find it endearing when they don’t have to worry about contracting something itchy or potentially life-threatening from a guy.”

“Just shut up, Yosh.” Scott spoke at last. His tone came out as flat and hard as the street underfoot. Angie looked aside at his face and gathered what his voice had already told her; he’d had enough.

Yosh looked from Scott to Angie, throwing up his hands as if in concession. “That’s alright. This honey couldn’t handle The Yosh.” He attempted a sneer in her direction, but his pomp had suddenly deflated.

“Actually this…‘honey’…tries not to handle anything if she doesn’t know where it’s been,” she said.

Great, now he’s got me talking in third person.

She planted her hands on her hips before she could stop herself. “And you can cut the over-privileged gangster wanna-be crap. No one’s impressed.”

Yosh eased a step back, hands raised as if intent on diffusing tensions. As it turned out, he was merely acting as a distraction for James, who had skulked around behind Scott. In an abrupt flurry of activity and shouting, James de-pantsed Scott and darted for the safety of the SUV. Yosh backed up farther and let out a whooping endorsement.

Scott’s reaction was quick, suggesting this wasn’t an unusual hazing maneuver. In one extended motion he dropped Angie’s duffel bag, hurled his backpack at James, and yanked his pants back up.

Out of the corner of her eye Angie caught a glimpse of blue boxer shorts covered in some form of cartoon character, but decided to pretend she hadn’t noticed. The backpack caught the back of James’s head and sent him stumbling to the right, where he rebounded off of the tail light and clamored around the side of the Lexus.

Yosh had already dashed around the front of the SUV and started the engine. James dove halfway into the passenger seat through the open window and they took off, tires squealing. They got less than a block before Tonga came barreling at them from the sidewalk, waving his arms. They stopped just long enough to pick him up before resuming their overly dramatic getaway. 

Angie watched the
diplomat
license plate recede into the distance. Aside from walking a few unhurried paces to retrieve his bag, Scott made no attempt at pursuit.  

“Well that was charming,” she said, sardonic. “Now, why is it you hang around these guys?”

“They’re not so bad,” Scott said. He let the backpack slide off his shoulder and deposited it on the ground beside her bag.

“They remind me of some of the guys from my high school. Well, mainly the ones that threw things at my head between classes,” she went on. Angie’s temper was cooling, but she was still annoyed with the juvenile antics. She turned aside to survey the building, tipping her head back as she lost count of the number of stories that made up the high-rise. “You live here?” she asked Scott aloud, though she hadn’t meant to. It was an inane question, which she was sure highlighted the fact that she’d never seen a building this tall in person. 

“Yeah, most of the year.” In one exuberant motion he caught her wrist, spun her around, and pulled her into an embrace. “It’s so weird…you’re a real person!” He laughed in her ear.

Feeling her feet leave the ground, Angie was momentarily stunned by the display of affection. While he was just a few inches taller than her, his upper body strength caught her by surprise.

“Scott, I think we established the reality of my existence a couple of hours ago.” Angie chuckled. “Put me down!” She found it difficult to scold him for the manhandling when he seemed so sincere.

“Sorry.” He eased her back to the ground and held her at arm’s length, as if to get a better look. His playful grin ignited a warmth in his honey-hazel eyes. “That’s for all the times you put up with my philosophical ramblings.”

Angie smiled, giving a casual shrug. “Hey, I’m pretty sure everybody starts wondering about the meaning of life from time to time. It helps to bounce things off of somebody else.” As she spoke, she was aware he was still clasped her by the elbows, which hadn’t allowed much space to return between them.

“Yeah, it did help me—a lot,” Scott said. His balance seemed to sway and he leaned in closer to her. A shock of a thought lanced through Angie’s mind.

He was going to kiss her.

She reacted unconsciously, twisting at her waist and bending to grab up her duffel bag. It was a defensive deflection of attention, which she bolstered with words. “So, where am I staying? My brain is about useless, and I still have Mono. I should really get some sleep.”

That’s it, mention the Mono. Everyone knows it’s contagious
.

Scott caught the strap of his backpack and hefted it onto one shoulder, a genial smile still affixed to his dark features. He didn’t show any signs of disappointment or expectation. Angie decided that she’d probably imagined it. Her mind wasn’t at its sharpest, after all.

“Come on.” He motioned for her to follow as he went striding into the building. “My dad thought you should have the spare apartment so you’ll have more privacy.” A doorman emerged to hold open one of the double glass doors while they passed into the elevator lobby.

As she trailed after him, it occurred to Angie that she had no idea who Scott’s father was or what he did for a living. Whatever it was, it apparently supplied him with the means for two Manhattan apartments and a swanky weekend home in New Jersey.
She could only hope everything might feel a little less surreal after she’d had a good night’s sleep.

This is going to be interesting.

June 23
,

I Heart NY?

I arrived almost 2 hours late in New Jersey, and eventually found the right house in Oldwick. Scott was literally out roaming the streets looking for me. His father and stepmom had already gone back to the city by then, so we rode back with his rowdy friends. The traffic was insane.

Scott’s friends reminded me of a bad stereotype from a sitcom. Oh sure, they’re amusing in their own way. But I can see how they’ve gotten Scott into trouble in the past. (Or at least, he makes it sound like that was past-tense.) They’re the kind of guys that prove testosterone and immaturity are a combustible combination... like gasoline and Styrofoam. Add a little spark of boredom, and bad things are bound to happen.