Will Do (short story)

You can get away with a lot if you just keep your mouth shut and act natural. People try and come up with all these complicated plans for how to throw everyone off their trail, but all you really have to do, is stay out of sight, and let them chase your shadow for a while. And eventually, pretty soon as a matter of fact, they’ll stop asking questions altogether, because people have so many other things they’d rather be doing.

It was still raining like a mother when we got to the field. Thank God it was at least warm. I will sit outside watching a football game in the rain, especially when we’re winning, but I need to at least be drunk, and preferably high.

I know the fat boys on the O-line love slopping around in that muck. Everything slows down in the mud. You don’t have to be quite so athletic. Wayne even got his ass in the endzone in the first half because the two guys chasing him got tripped up. When he spiked the ball it just stuck to the ground like glue. My eyes lit up when I saw the ref pull out the flag.

“Alright pay up,” I said to Bakowski, laughing. “I told ya he’d get himself at least one penalty.”

“Yeah yeah.”

“He’s gotta learn to cool it with that showboat shit,” I laughed. “Coach is gonna bench ‘im.”

“Nah man. Coach is too chill for that.”

“That’s true.”

“You should split that with him,” Bakowski said, handing me the ten.

“Hell no. I need to reinvest this.”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “In ‘Will Do Enterprises.’”

“That’s right my man. I’ve gotta keep my mind on that IPO. One day…”

“Right. …Who do you think’s winning this game?”

“You tryin’ to lose more money?”

“I’m not tryin’ to lose,” he smiled. “But I’ve got another Alexander Hamilton that says Douglasville comes back and wins it. Straight up.”

“Straight up?”

“Straight up. No points, just, win.”

“You’re on man.”

We got to Morris’ pretty early that night. We headed over right after the game. I even bought Bakowski a Pepsi on the way, with some of the twenty bucks he put in my pocket. I don’t think he’d keep betting with me if I didn’t buy him a consolation prize every other time.

“You want a sip?” he asked.

“Nah. I’m more of a Coke man these days.”

“All tastes the same to me,” he shrugged.

“You need it more anyway. It’s good to get yourself hydrated before you get slammered. Your head won’t hurt as much in the morning.”

“Who says I’m getting slammered?” he laughed.

“History says. And if there’s one thing you can always trust, it’s history.”

“I might knock a few back.”

“I got twenty bucks says you black out before 2am.”

“…No deal,” he laughed.

“Smart man. Maybe Morris’ll take me up on that.”

“I’m sure he would. You just have to find him first.”

“I know right? That’s the hard part…”

So I parked in Morris’ driveway, right behind his Audi, like I owned the place, because every time I go over there I push things a little further, to see if he’ll ever get pissed at me, because I think it would be good to know where his boundaries are. There are really only two things left for me to try; have sex in his bed, and have sex with his sister in his bed. Morris is smart though. I’ve never found his bedroom door unlocked during a party. Come to think of it I’ve never even seen the inside of his room.

The front door was already open, so we let ourselves in, and made our way to the kitchen. I had zoomed over there, burning through yellow lights, but there were already ten people there looking like they were about three beers deep each.

Back during halftime I had made a mental note to start mixing up some punch the second I stepped foot in Morris’ kitchen, and somehow, despite the haze I was in, I remembered. I had only just started when Chris walked in from the living room.

“Big Willy style, what’s up?”

“Hey Chris what’s up man?”

“I’m feeling good. That was a big win tonight.”

“Hell yeah. Feels even better to be out of that rain.”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “We might see the playoffs this year.”

“That’d be a nice change of pace.”

“Yeah I’d love to see them make a run in something before we graduate… you bring any?”

“…Any what?” I asked, trying to think and mix punch at the same time.

“Anything,” Chris shrugged.

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah man I got you.”

“Sweet. Uh, the basement’s empty right now, if…”

“Sounds good. I’ll be right there.”

“Awesome.”

Chris likes to act like buying a pill or a nickel bag off me is like two secret agents trading briefcases in a crowded airport. But honestly I love playing along with it. It cracks me up. And I love seeing Chris around. He hadn’t even shown up at a party the past few weeks before this one. Between his running and his AP classes, you know he’s gonna be stressed, and when people get stressed, they buy.

“Just don’t take this tonight,” I told him. “If you’re going to be drinking.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah man. I don’t want to have to call an ambulance for you,” I laughed. “You don’t drink with that shit. You’ve got races to run,” I told him, patting him on the back. “You gotta stay alive.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” he laughed. “Alright, cool.”

“I’ll be up in a sec. Just gotta call somebody.”

I don’t know how the Morrises do it, but I get better reception in their basement than I do anywhere else. I wouldn’t mind moving into their basement. It’s bigger than a lot of the houses around here. The thing’s even got a bar built in. I wonder how many days I could stay down there before they’d notice.

I dialed Keira.

“Hello?”

“Yo what up girl?”

“Hi,” she laughed. “You are such a wigger.”

“Come on… be nice.”

“Are you wearing a do rag right now?”

“I only did that once,” I laughed. “It was Halloween.”

“Mm. What’s up?”

“I’m at Morris’, and, I just wanted to talk to a pretty girl.”

“Aw,” she said, sarcastically. “There aren’t any lookers at the party that you can charm?”

“None that have anything on you.”

“Mm. Is it a shit show over there yet?”

“Nah not yet. We just got here.”

“Well I’m sure you’ll fix that soon enough.”

“You gonna come by?”

“I don’t think so. …Not really my scene.”

“What are you up to tonight?”

“I was working on a painting when you called.”

“For class or for fun?”

“It’s always for fun. But no I’m not using this one for class.”

“Yeah…”

“It’s going pretty well if I do say so myself,” she said, exhaling. “I’m finally getting a chance to use my purples.”

“What is it a picture of?”

“Well, the theme, is the idea that time always marches on, whether you’re ready for it or not.”

“Deep. What’s it look like?”

“You’ll have to come by sometime and see. I don’t know how to explain it with words. I guess that’s why I’m not a writer.”

“That sounds nice. …Hey, uh, if you want to do something else tonight, we could meet up.”

“I thought you were partying tonight.”

“Plans can always change.”

“It’s ok. I think I’m just going to paint all night. I’m sort of in the zone.”

“Ok… I’ll catch ya later then.”

“Bye.”

Click.

I stared at the phone for a second.

“Damn.”

I finished making the punch, had a test glass, and by the time I was done getting re-baked in the powder room with Lauren, the football players finally showed up.

Wayne led the charge to the beer, and Brandon fired up the Morris’ Playstation so he and Westcott could play Madden and get angry at each other.

“Nice game tonight Wayner.”

“Couldn’t’ve done it without my teammates,” he said, raising his beer can in salute.

They all yelled and hollered like a band of barbarians that had just sacked Rome.

“I am going to drink you under the table tonight Bakowski,” Wayne said, punching him on the shoulder.

“Drink him under and that might put you six feet under,” I laughed.

“The man speaks the truth,” Bakowski said, throwing back a shot. “You probably don’t want any part of this.”

“Dang man,” Wayne said. “Up to shots already?”

“I was sipping on shots in the fourth quarter man.”

“Fair enough,” Wayne laughed, shrugging. “It’s your kitchen we’re just drinking in it.”

Laughs all around.

“It might as well be mine,” Bakowski laughed. “I’m Vice President of kitchen operations, ok Morris?” he said, shouting towards the second floor.

I got a little drunker, then wandered over to the couch.

“Hey. How you guys doin’ over here?”

“Almost done the first half,” Brandon said.

“You get anything to drink?”

Brandon pointed to the cups on the coffee table.

“Oh. Yeah. Sweet. Did you try the punch? Made it myself.”

“Nah man,” Westcott laughed. “That’s just for the females.”

“True. …Hey. Who’s who?” I asked.

“Westcott’s the Falcons, of course, because he doesn’t have any pocket presence, and I, am… a real team.”

“Jail birds,” I said, smiling.

“Baltimore is probably better than Atlanta, ya know,” Westcott said. “Overall.”

“Yeah but you love Atlanta. You just have to have your boyfriend Vick, so you can roll left everytime. That shit is bush league.”

“Whatever man. If it’s in the game, it’s in the game,” Westcott said, cracking himself up. “Vick’s on the cover for a reason.”

“True. True. Regardless… I like my chances with this crazy defense. Best corners in the game.”

“Do you have an Ed Reed poster above your bed?” Westcott asked.

“He’s sexier than half the girls you hook up with.”

“Fuck you.”

“Note to self,” I thought. “Leave the room before they start throwing punches.”

I know I got up about a minute after I talked to the two of them, and I know I wound up back in the basement, but I can’t remember why I went down there. I think I wanted to be alone for a second, and it was still early, so I knew the basement would work. People don’t usually go downstairs until the end of the night, when they’re totaled.

I remember sitting on the couch down there, and then after what seemed like a second and a half, I was sitting on the ground behind the bar, leaning up against the mini fridge that’s built into the wall. I had my phone out and the menu was scrolled down to Keira’s name. I was staring at her name on the screen, thinking about her hair that she’s always dyeing, and her wild paintings, and her skinny little legs. The sound of someone tiptoeing down the stairs broke my trance.

My first instinct was to be quiet and stay hidden. I curled up into a ball like I was trying to re-enter a womb and started taking shallow breaths. I really don’t know why I made such a big deal out of it, but I didn’t want whoever it was to know I was down there. I started imagining what it would be like if I could crawl inside the fridge.

I heard whispers, and kissing. A girl giggled.

“Slow down,” she whispered.

It was Janus. Wayne’s girlfriend. I didn’t even think she was coming to Morris’ that night.

“I don’t know how to slow down,” the guy said. “How do you think I win all those races?”

Chris.

“You little whore,” I thought.

It was hell trying to keep my laughter from slipping out.

I can’t really blame Janus. You can only watch your boyfriend hit on every single cheerleader in school so many times before you do something to pay him back. And with Chris… I mean, shit. At least she had good taste.

I could hear them make their way over to the couch. More kissing, more whispers, and what sounded like a belt being unbuckled and a hand going down someone’s pants. Another giggle from Janus.

Then the door.

“Shit,” Chris said.

The bathroom door slammed shut.

“Hey, Janus?”

“Hi,” she said, trying to sound casual. “What’s up?”

“Wayne’s going for the record. Thought you might want to see this shit.”

“Which record?”

“The two minute drill. …See who can down the most beers in two minutes without a funnel.”

“Oh, right,” she laughed. “Uh yeah. I’ll be right there.”

“Cool.”

The messenger walked back up the steps.

“…Jesus Christ,” Janus said.

She knocked on the bathroom door.

“Chris?”

“…Hey.”

“The coast is clear.”

He opened the door.

“You didn’t even pull your pants back up,” she laughed.

“Come in here,” Chris said. “There’s a shower.”

Janus laughed, and then I heard the door shut.

“Well,” I thought. “That’s my cue.”

I snuck back upstairs, back to the kitchen, just in time to see Wayne break the record; three and a half without a funnel. We always do it head to head, just to add some drama to it, and Jeff had him beat with four, but it doesn’t count if you throw it back up.

“Jeff,” Wayne started. “You… are my hero man.”

Applause all around.

“I couldn’t hang man,” Jeff said, shaking his head.

“You hung just fine dude. You hung like a champion.”

And Wayne hugged him.

“We don’t get anywhere without crazy sons of bitches like you pushing the limits!”

Everyone cheered.

“Just keep streaking downfield,” Wayne went on. “You’re always open. Even when you’re not.”

“Thanks man,” Jeff said. “Nine routes.”

“That’s right. Nine routes all day dude. They ain’t got shit for that shit.”

And Jeff just kept nodding.

I had a shot to celebrate Wayne’s record, and another beer just because, and I know that at some point a little while later I wound up in the upstairs hallway bathroom, with Lauren again, and she was stretched out in the bathtub, passing the pipe back and forth with me, and she was wearing orange tinted snowboarding goggles, because she said it would prevent her eyes from getting red, and I told her that didn’t make any sense, but she just laughed, and I kissed her, hoping she wouldn’t mind. She didn’t. It was just a normal extension of our conversation, and as she stuck her tongue down my throat, I thought about how hard it would be for her to get her curly hair clean if I blew a load into it.

And there was a Frisbee catch in the backyard, with my green light up disc, with whoever the hell was out there with me, and I ran into Chris again, and he was grinning like he knew something no one else did, and I saw Janus walking down the driveway, and I watched her as she got into her car and drove away.

Wayne passed out early, on the living room couch, and there was a black Sharpie on the table next to him, but no one wrote anything on him with marker, because everybody loves Wayne, even when the team loses. I went back to check on Lauren. She was asleep in the tub, so I threw some towels over her, and watched her for a minute. Nice, even breathing. In and out. No catches. I ran my hand up and down her thigh a few times and then left her to sleep it off. I turned the lock and pulled the door closed behind me as I went.

Real quick, on my way back downstairs, I tried Morris’ doorknob. No dice. There might only be a brick wall on the other side of that door.

I was back in the kitchen, looking at what was left of the chips and salsa, and I got it in my head that what I really needed more than anything else on this Earth, was a Gatorade, and a 3 Musketeers bar. One of the big ones. Problem was my Acclaim was blocked in by about four other cars.

No sweat. I went to the empty fruit bowl on the kitchen island and started pawing through it.

“Hyundai, Toyota, Dodge… ah fuck it.”

I couldn’t decide which car to borrow just by looking at the keys so I did the only logical thing and brought the bowl outside with me. From the front porch I hit the open button on a few of the remotes, and one in particular called my name pretty quick.

“Vroom vroom… who the hell drove you here sweetheart?”

I put the bowl down next to the umbrella stand and tip toed across the wet grass towards the Mustang. I don’t know why I thought tip toeing would help… my feet got pretty soaked all the same. I don’t know why the hell I didn’t just use the driveway. It had started raining again.

“Sup baby… let’s go for a ride,” I said, caressing the hood.

It was black on black, right down to the rims.

“Can I call you Naomi?”

I turned the key.

“Goddamn… you’ve got a lotta ponies in your stomach Naomi…”

I put it in gear, and…

“Jesus.”

Bumped the car in front of me.

“Thought I was… in reverse already…”

I took a deep breath.

“Ok… ok… let’s… let’s fucking focus here Will. Let’s not be a sped right now. Maybe later, but not right now.”

I got the gear right and inched away from the curb.

I got Ms. Campbell straightened out, got some jams goin’ on the radio, and drove up to the first stop sign a little faster than I should have.

“Where did you come from?” I asked the car crossing in front of me. “Good thing your brakes work Naomi.”

Right turn, left turn, and I’m out on Iron Run road.

I opened it up, and I even caught the green at the intersection.

I felt like I was about to blast into hyperspace with that car. The entire stretch of street started looking like one long blur of gold light.

Get to the store, park across two spaces, flip my hood up, walk inside, green Gatorade, big 3 Musketeers.

Scratch that.

Two big 3 Musketeers.

“So hungry,” I say to myself.

“Just that?” the girl asks me.

“Yeah… unless you’re on sale too,” I smile.

She rolls her eyes.

“Jerk off,” she mutters.

She rings me up.

“Do you want a ride somewhere? When do you get off?”

“Just get out of here before I get the manager. I know you’re stoned as shit, by the way.”

I smile and show myself out.

“Lesbian,” I say over my shoulder.

Unlock the door, practically fall over getting in, unwrap the first candy bar, lean back in the seat, get the jams back on.

I quote the cashier, and I give her that voice you always give the person you’re mocking.

“Just get out of here,” I say, cracking myself up.

Choke on the Gatorade a little bit.

“We don’t need her Naomi. You’re more than enough woman for me,” I say, rubbing the steering wheel.

Pull around the back of the store and go down the little hill that leads into the rear parking lot.

Whip around that curve like you always do, so you can slingshot yourself back out towards the exit.

Crash into the dumpster.

Crash into the dumpster.

Crash into the dumpster.

Wonder why someone moved the dumpster from its usual spot.

Wonder why the car didn’t turn as tight as you thought it would.

Wonder why you’re driving somebody else’s car.

Get out.

Get out.

Get out of the car. Now.

Right. Now.

Throw your trash in the dumpster. Every bit of it.

Leave the keys in the ignition.

Lock the doors.

Walk down the other side of the hill without slipping on the wet grass. Walk through the parking lot of the barber shop, and the car wash, and keep on walking until you get home.

Turn the key in your front door.

Lock it behind you.

Take a shower.

Get in bed.

Turn your phone off.

Pretend like nothing happened.

Nothing.

At all.

Feel free to check out the other material on this site. 

I've written 4 books and the first chapter from my debut novel is on the homepage.       

I also have a short story called "Screen Name" for sale on Amazon.  It is a brisk 20 pages and includes samples from my books at the end.