Don't Hate the Player...Hate the Game (7 page)

It was a week until Spring Break, and with all the
craziness going on his life and mine, he hadn’t stayed over in a
while. It was almost noon when we dragged our disheveled asses
downstairs. We’d been up most of the night playing games on the
Wii, instant messaging chicks, and inevitably watching titty flicks
on HBO. Hey, don’t judge. We were just two unattached, horny
dudes.

Mom, outfitted in her pink tennis skirt and white
shirt, was at the stove taking up blueberry pancakes. I gotta hand
it to her, the one meal she didn’t ever screw up was breakfast. As
we collapsed at the table, she came over to us. “Hi guys! Did you
sleep well?” She reached over to ruffle my hair, but I ducked
away.

Jake perked up the moment he saw Mom. He flashed his
megawatt smile at her. “Good morning, Maggie.” Sniffing the air
appreciatively, he then said, “Wow, something sure smells good! Did
you cook for us?”

Mom smiled. “I sure did. I figured I better do
something special for you because it’s been so long since you
stayed over.”

“Aw, thanks. That’s so sweet of you.”

She set a small feast of culinary goodies down in
front of us. As she poured a glass of orange juice, she eyed Jake.
“So what’s been keeping you away?”

He stopped shoveling in pancakes for a moment. “I’ve
just been busy that’s all.”

“Hmm, has someone special got you running in
circles?” Mom asked, desperately hoping Jake would abandon his
manwhore ways.

“Not really.”

Mom gave a disappointed sigh. “Well, don’t stay away
so long next time. You’re always welcome here.”

A knock at the back door interrupted us. Mom
practically skipped over to answer it. Greg blew in his tennis
shorts and Polo shirt. Jesus, he and Mom looked like two Neapolitan
ice cream cones standing together. I fought my gag reflex.

“Noah, Greg and I are going to play tennis.”

“You don’t say,” I mumbled. Mom shot me a look, and I
ducked my head.

“I should be back by five or six.”

“Okay.”

“You and Jake behave yourself, okay?”

“We will,” I said.

“I’ll keep him in line, Maggie,” Jake said, with a
broad grin.

Mom laughed. “All right then.”

As they started to the door, Jake leaned back in his
chair to stare at my mom’s ass in her tennis skirt.

I grabbed the newspaper next to me and whacked him in
the head.

“What the hell was that for?” he asked.

“For scamming my mom, you pervert!”

Jake grinned. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Well, you better try.”

He continued staring at the door. “She seems happy,”
he mused.

“Yeah, whatever,” I grumbled, suddenly losing my
appetite.

Jake cocked his eyebrows at me. “Don’t you think she
deserves a little happiness?”

“Yessss,” I hissed.

“Oh, I get it. You just don’t like him.”

“The guy’s a tool!”

Jake laughed and shook his head. “No dude, my dad is
a tool. That guy,” he jerked his head towards the door. “is a
decent guy.”

“Whatever.”

“You think they’re pretty serious? Like getting
married serious?”

“I don’t wanna think about it!” I shouted. I shot up
from my seat and stalked over to the sink. I tossed my plate into
the sudsy water, which sloshed onto my shirt and the floor. “And
what the hell do you know about marriage or relationships? It’s not
like you’ve ever been faithful to a girl for two seconds.”

“That’s not true,” he argued.

“It so is, man. You wouldn’t have the first idea
about how to be in a relationship.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed. “Take that back.”

“I will not.”

I’d turned to get a dishcloth to mop up the water
when Jake appeared at my side. “Listen man, I’m not just some
player who doesn’t care about anyone but myself!”

“I didn’t say you were.”

Out of nowhere he shoved me hard against the counter.
“Not in so many words, but you did.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “Dude, what the hell is
the matter with you?”

Jake’s face softened. “Nothing…sorry.”

“Man, you’re acting weird today. Maybe I better call
Mom back to examine you.”

He snorted. “Um, last time I checked, having a vagina
wasn’t one of my problems.”

“No, having too many is yours!” I joked.

Jake laughed but shook his head. “There you go again.
I told you last night I was changing.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know if you were serious or
not.”

“Well, I am. No more one night stands or random
hookups for me.”

“How come?”

Jake didn’t answer me. Instead, he walked out of the
kitchen to the living room. I followed him and plopped down beside
him on the couch. “Jake, you didn’t answer me.”

He glanced up from the remote and smiled—a truly
sincere smile. “Because I think I’m in love.”

I almost fell off the couch. “You’re what?”

“You heard me, asshat!”

“I’m sorry, man. I just wasn’t expecting that from
you.”

“Well, I’m sorry to shock you, but it’s the
truth.”

I stared at him in astonishment. “Wow, that’s
intense.”

Jake laughed and propped his feet on Mom’s antique
coffee table. “It feels intense man.”

Eyeing him warily, I kicked Jake’s feet away. “Yeah,
well what happened to you telling me when I was in a relationship
that love’s for pussies?”

With a grimace, Jake replied, “I was wrong. And I’m
sorry.”

My eyebrows practically shot off my forehead. “Excuse
me? Did you just not only admit that you were wrong about
something, but you also apologized?” When Jake bobbed his head, I
reached for my phone. “Okay, Mom definitely needs to check you
out!”

“I told you, I’m fine.”

“So when did it happen?”

He was thoughtful for a moment. “I don’t know. It’s
been coming on for a while. I guess I just didn’t notice. But for
sure like a month ago.”

Then it hit me that I hadn’t asked the most crucial
question of all. “So who is the lucky chick?”

“I’m not telling you,” Jake replied.

I shot up off the couch. “What? That’s bullshit
man!”

He slowly shook his head. “Nope. Not going to tell
you.”

“Why not?”

He tossed the remote control to the side of the couch
and then stared at me. “Because I haven’t told her yet. I think she
deserves to know first, don’t you?”

I rolled my eyes as I started pacing in front of him.
“So you’re in love with a girl, and you haven’t told her?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Do you think she feels the same way?” I asked.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Do I know her?”

“Maybe,” he admitted reluctantly.

I threw my hands up in exasperation. “Okay fine. Keep
her a secret.”

Jake smiled. “Good, because I plan on it.”

Plopping back down on the couch, I grabbed up the
remote. “So, let’s say she feels the same way about you—in love and
all. What does she think about being a manwhore?”

“I’m a
rehabilitated
manwhore,” Jake
replied.

I arched my eyebrows. “Seriously dude?”

“Yep.”

“And how exactly does one become,” I paused to make
air quotes with my fingers, “a ‘rehabilitated manwhore’? Is there
some kind of rehab you studs go to?”

Jake snickered. “No, there’s not, you smartass.
Basically, it means, I’ve stopped screwing around.”

I gasped and fought the urge to faint off the couch.
“Whoa…are shitting me?”

“Nope.”

“Since when?”

Jake raised his eyes to the ceiling while he thought.
“Let’s see. It was almost four weeks ago with Presley.”

My jaw fell to the floor in shock. “You haven’t had
sex in almost four weeks?”

“I sure haven’t…well, not with a girl anyway,” he
replied, with a wink.

I laughed. “Spare me the details, bro.”

“Hey, I gotta do something.”

I shook my head slowly back and forth in disbelief.
“Man, I’m impressed.”

Jake grinned. “Thanks man, that means a lot to
me.”

“It does?”

“Yeah it sure does,” he replied.

“Then I’m glad.”

“Now, if we could just find your ugly mug
somebody!”

“Hey, screw you!”

Then the vision faded, and drowsily, I turned over in
bed. There would be no counting backwards like when they give you
anesthesia. As I went under the levels of consciousness, Jake’s
face was the last thing I saw.

***

With Mom’s blessing to skip school, Alex, and
I went over to Jake’s house to hang out with his brothers and his
two cousins from out in the sticks—twins he liked to refer to as
“Bubba”. Their names were actually Sean and Ryan, but Jake loved to
call them just “Bubba”.

Jonathan brought a cooler out of the apartment above
the garage. We popped a few beers and lounged around by the pool.
By noon, we were positively shitfaced. It took us all being drunk
off our asses before we dared to bring up Jake.

Bubba, aka Ryan and Sean, were with Jake when he
died. After his seventh beer, Jonathan grabbed Ryan’s shoulder and
slurred, “Dude, can you tell me how the hell it’s possible that my
baby brother blew his ass up on a tractor?”

My breath caught in my chest, and I slowly eased the
can away from my lips, awaiting Bubba’s response.

Ryan gulped down his swig of beer and shook his head
sadly. “We were all just hanging out in the pasture—bored as hell.
Sean and Travis (one of their other hillbilly relations) had
brought along some rifles, so we started shooting beer cans off the
fence.” Ryan glanced around us. “I mean, we tried shooting at them,
but we were too fucking wasted to really hit anything.”

Sean nodded. “Jake was pretty quiet. He kept mumbling
something about falling off the wagon and ‘she’s gonna be
disappointed in me’. About ten, he climbed up on Pawpaw’s tractor
to get a better vantage point for the cans, or so he claimed.
Travis said, “Hey dumbass, you better get off Papaw’s tractor, or
he’ll wear out your hide!” But Jake just shrugged and started
firing over and over again. One nicked the barbwire, ricocheted
off, and…”

At Sean’s hesitation, Ryan murmured forlornly, “It
happened so quick. I mean, boom, and he was gone.”

We sat in stunned silence, staring at the sunlight
glimmering on the pool water. Jonathan chugged the rest of his
beer. Finally, in a strangled voice, he murmured, “Fuck me.”

The sound of loud voices snapped us out of our daze.
It was Mr. and Mrs. Nelson arguing.

“Did you think you could hide it from me?” Mrs.
Nelson shrieked.

“Of course not. I just wanted you to get through the
funeral first before I told you.”

“And what is that supposed to mean, Martin? Am I such
a nut job you don’t think I could handle it?”

“No, Ev, that’s not what I thought.”

As the voices got closer, we threw horrified glances
at each other. In a drunken stupor, we stumbled around, hiding the
evidence of our binge. Course, anyone with brains would have taken
one look or one
whiff
at us and known we were totally
plastered. But when you’re shitfaced, you’re not known for having
very many coherent thoughts.

Mrs. Nelson threw open the patio with such a force I
thought she’d rip it off the hinges.

“Noah!” she called.

The other guys swiveled their heads toward me.

Shit. Damn. Hell
. I straightened up in my lawn
chair. “Yes, Mrs. Nelson?” I called in the most sober voice I could
conjure.

It took me only a second to notice the velvet ring
box in her hand.
Double Shit, Damn, Hell….

“Do you know about this?” she demanded, waving the
box at me.

Mr. Nelson joined her at the railing. I exchanged a
glance with him before I replied. “Um, yes, Mrs. Nelson. We found
it last night in Jake’s room.” Wanting to stay on her good side, I
quickly added, “Mr. Nelson thought it would be best to wait to tell
you.”