RAG Fiction Novels Page
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Top of Page P
eter stepped out of the shower stall, closed the glass door, and grabbed a
large fluffy towel. He scanned his trim body in the full length bathroom mirror and
dried himself. As he turned slowly from side to side, he frowned. He liked the looks of
his body but the blood stains on the front sidewalk bothered him. The vision of the
trail of blood drops were haunting.
The stains, most certainly blood drops, provided a path to the next door
neighbor’s house starting on the sidewalk in front of Peter’s home. It continued down
the sidewalk and up the front walk to his family’s front stairs. He wasn’t certain he
saw blood stains up the stairs onto the front porch. I’ve got to remember to ask Jane if
she knows about the blood.
He turned sideways again and pushed his pelvis forward. What a hunk! Peter
committed himself to maintaining his college weight, keep his stomach flat and hard,
and remain physically strong. As a young physician, just out of a technically difficult
internship, he believed he had accomplished good physical conditioning.
He shouted to his wife. “Jane?” Peter chuckled at the short-lived echo in his old
family’s old house. “Jane?”
“Yoo-hoo!” she responded.
“Where is she?”
He put one foot on a three legged stool. “I’m thirty-two, right?” he shouted
checking his crotch, knees and finally his feet.
“Right on!” The echo reverberated and the bathroom became quiet.
“And we’re both going to stay in shape, right?”
“Right, again, darling,” she replied. Her voice was louder.
“Remind, me, OK? I’ve got something important to ask you.”
“Remind me at dinner, darling.”
As he wiped the towel gently between his legs, he briefly recalled the romp
with Jane in their large bed last evening, when, without warning, she stuck her head
into the bathroom.
“Yes, my love, you are beautiful. You’re cute all over and all under. Darling
little butt!”
They laughed.
He blushed because she had seen him admiring himself.
“Honey, you have a phone call. Guess who”
“Who?”
“Target”
“Who?”
“Target Jans. Your old school chum.”
“Target’s calling again?” Probably another warning of doom. He ran his towel
across his shoulders as he walked to the bathroom’s wall phone. Drawing the towel up
tighter between his buttocks, he slowly dried the back of his legs, and tossed the towel
onto his dressing bench. He picked up the phone and said, “Boomp, boomp ski oten
doten.”
“Hey, buddy,” Target said. Peter welcomed the warmth in his voice. He
laughed and from the sound of his voice Target bubbled with early morning
excitement. “I can’t talk you out of getting involved with alma mater again, can I?”
“Now, Target, I promised Parker that I would go to this game with him
tonight. Jane is having interior decorators in for an evening of redoing this old house;
my folks home. I certainly don’t want to be here and our old high school football
teams have been getting better the last few years. Not losers, like we were.”
He tugged his scrotum gently away from his body, walked to the bench, picked
up the towel and dried himself more between his legs. Peter threw the towel down
again. He wrapped the towel around his hand, powdered it and rubbed his body as
he listened to Target, glanced at the mirror, and listened to his concerns.
“But we are human, Pete . . . not. . .like some of those of those young guys!”
Peter frowned at Target’s statement. Human? Why would Target express envy
that way? Something funny. Doesn’t sound like Target.
“There are rumors out there, Peter. Some are very ugly. There have been a few
strange deaths. Unexplainable!” Peter began to listen to Target more closely. What’s he
getting at?
Music flooded upstairs. Jane’s turned on the stereo. It’s her music. Exotic, sad
and soulful. He imagined he flew high over California’s desert every time she played
her favorite musical suite. Her music always made him think about grabbing her and
dance forever into eternity. “Peter, you’re such a romantic,” she had said as they
waltzed to her music. “Wiggle your hips for me, darling. The way you move those
hips, you had to be a great football player.”
“And basketball and track,” he shouted back at her as they danced around an imaginary room. Any room.
The vision of them whirling high above dessert sands faded as he said, “Well,
Targ, I wish you could be here to go with Parker and me tonight. The first game of the
season. This whole town is hopped up for the event.” Peter checked his reflection for
a last time. “Our old enemy North Sands is supposed to have a pretty good football
team. But, Targ, because of our wins the last couple of years and, and, Target,” he
said stretching Target’s name, “because Carlton High, our high school, Targ, is
undefeated in twenty-six games, it should be a rip snorter. Too bad you can’t make it.
I wish you could change your mind.”
“No. Not me, buddy. I would have to drive in from Riverside. You know,
Peter, I enjoyed growing up in Carlton, but my life now is here in Riverside. And
Peter, be careful, where you stick your nose. I don’t like the rumors. Some say they’re
more than rumors.” Peter didn’t like the caution in Target’s voice. He chewed on the
inside of his lip.
He felt compelled to say, “There’s nothing going on here, Target. It’s just a
situation where Carlton High’s time has come. They’ve got kids that have played
together most of their grade, junior high and high school lives, they were all babies,
little boys together and now they are young men in the prime of their lives. Now most
of them are seniors. The big, fast with unholy speed, as one sports writer wrote, and
they’re going to do very well this year. At least that’s the prevailing mood here in
Carleton. And tonight Parker and I are going to reminisce as we watch the game from
the parent’s section in the stands. It’s the first game for me since we graduated.”
“Be careful,” Target said. He’s like a puppy dog. He won’t give up. He says,
Carleton’s teams have been successful beyond belief in recent years. Target is convinced
there must be something wrong, illegal, corrupt. Right? What has made him so critical?
So suspicious of success? Why is he suspicious?
Peter suddenly realized Target had hung up. He hadn’t said, 'Boomp, boomp.’ to
say goodbye. Why? Come to think of it, Target didn’t say hi, greet me with a 'boomp,
boomp’, when he first spoke to me. Strange. Peter was troubled by Target’s words and his
apparent anxiety.
He replaced the phone and walked to the wide dual bathroom sinks. He picked up
his blow-dryer. Checking his reflection again he ran his hands over his chest and the
ridges in his belly. He held his shaft to one side and used the blow-dryer to dry his body
between his legs. You are a magnificent animal. Magnificent! Animal! Still got
your sexy blond curly hair. Hair that many young women had run their hands through
and curls they wound around their fingers. Peter chuckled at his thoughts and he felt a
stirring within him. He and his old Carlton football team approached the line of
scrimmage: third down on the four yard line. He quarter backed Carleton’s Varsity while
Target played right end and Parker awaited the snap from left end. Two good sets of
hands. Two guys who wanted to catch the ball and make the game winning touchdown.
Peter felt the football between his hands and scrambled backward. Either tight end gets
the ball. He ran backward to his right and his heart beat loud in his ears as Parker ran
across the middle of the offensive line into the end zone. Peter ran toward Target. Target
screamed and ran into the end toward the sideline marker away from Parker. Peter
stopped, dodged a tackler, stiff-armed a second man, and passed the ball to Parker who
was temporarily open: ready to catch the football. Target turned and looked at Parker who
leaped high and brought the ball down as it slipped through his hands, his arms, and
rolled on the ground.
Peter’s heart still beat fast as he stood staring down at his sink. He shuddered as
he recalled the black and white stripes of the referee’s arms swinging back and forth,parallel to the ground. No touchdown. The game horn sounded. Carleton had lost their
final game. An important game for Peter in his senior year. The blow-dryer blew hot air
against his thigh. Peter jumped from the sting. “Ouch.” He frowned and stared at his
unsmiling face in the mirror. Many tears were shed on the bus back to the locker room,
some loudly, others silently. The silence of the locker room would never be forgotten. It
was broken only by tears of disappointment by young men who tried too hard for a dream
that would never happen for them.
Jane walked into the bathroom and leaned against the doorjamb. She held a pair
of Peter’s briefs and dangled them in front of him. “Do you think these are appropriate?”
Peter recognized his briefs from high school. Carleton High Footballer. The faded
white letters were still visible on the rear of the small maroon briefs. He smiled and
walked to his wife. “I love you darling. My Jane,” he said, as he pulled her against his
body.
She felt him tremble and understood the emotion that would accompany this
football evening: old friends, remembered times, and broken hearts. She kissed her
husband and told him to have a good time. She had kissed him deeply and pressed her
body against his manhood. She felt his response and looked forward to his return later in
the evening, after the game.
“Target’s not coming?”
“No,” Peter said as he turned and stepped into his briefs. He pulled them up and
adjusted them around his hips. Jane was proud of her husband’s body as he turned and
snapped the briefs around his buttocks. He turned and was satisfied. He leaned back
against the seat and supported his body his arms stiff on both sides of his body.
“What’s the matter? Is Target not feeling well? I thought tonight was big night?”
“Jane. I’ve been busy just getting us moved into this old house. You’re more
acquainted with what’s going on in Carleton. Have you heard any bad rumors about the
kids on the athletic teams at Carleton?”
“Well, darling,” she said not moving from the doorjamb. “I’m not interested in
athletics, but there have been instances where comments made me think later, what the
heck are they talking about?”
“Like what honey? Come on. I’ve got to get dressed.” Jane followed closely
behind Peter as he did a two-step toward his walk-in closet. “I can really dance to your
music. Love it.”
“I love the way you move your hips.” He pulled a sport shirt off a hanger and
pulled it over his head. “If you only knew how much I love you. The way you move your
body. Your lips.”
“Whoa there, woman,” Peter said as he straightened his soft collar. “That’s not
what I asked you.” They laughed. “Can you give me an example?” He pulled his knit shirt
downward and pressed it against his body. Peter checked the bottom of his shirt was
satisfied with the fit.
Peter can still wear clothes he wore in high school. Those briefs, that shirt, one
of his favorites. Never throws anything away. My little stud pack rat. “Yeah,” she
responded and opened her eyes wide. She realized her thoughts had strayed from Peter’s
question. “You know Merilee Johns, right?”
“Yeah. She has a boutique, doesn’t she?” He slowly stroked his bulge and turned
back to the closet. He pulled his white shorts from a hanger and turned around again.
She watched her husband put on his tennis shorts. “Yeah. Well, the day I went in
to introduce myself, actually give her my business card, we really hit it off.” She chuckled
as she saw the monogram on the left leg of the white shorts. A two-inch high C behind
a small H with School in legible script. Two narrow maroon circles ran around the legs
of the shorts and accented the curve of Peter’s buttocks as he turned and grabbed his
football cap. Those shorts couldn’t be tighter. Shouldn’t be tighter. Sexy man, my Peter.
“Well, Merilee said the usual things. She was sincere. I have no doubt. I like
Merilee. I think she’s somewhat oversexed but you know Jake and you know where her
mind is most of the time. She has pictures of him in varying poses, some dangerously
close to complete nudity, in her shop.” She laughed as she stepped closer to Peter. She
arched a eyebrow. “I never thought to inquire. It just occurred to me. Maybe those photos
are for sale. I never asked.”
“I can give you the real thing. In living color and hot flesh,” Peter said softly.
Jane agreed with Peter as she stepped close to him, held him tight around his
waist, and ran her other hand down his buttocks feeling his hard curve and feeling the
strength of his body. “He has almost as cute a rear as you do.”
Peter winked and kissed her lips first with his tongue then his full lips. He started
to penetrate as she pushed him back. “Don’t start now. I have important guests coming.
They wouldn’t appreciate my being late. I’m sure. She felt his bulge and was pleased his
hard shaft. Besides, you’ve got to save your energy for the game tonight. . .Oh that is so
nice, honey.”
Peter pushed her hand against his shaft. “Tonight? Later?” he asked.
“You got a date, tiger,” Jane said, smiled and kissed Peter again. They walked
slowly toward the door of their bedroom that led to the rectangular hall, guarded by old
wooden rails, around the empty interior of the middle of the house. “You really do distract
me, darling.”
Peter held Jane close as they walked toward the wide stairs to the first floor. “I’m
glad. That’s only one of my jobs as your husband.”
They turned the corner, Jane ran her hand along the railing as they started down
the stairs. “Well, innocently enough, I guess, Merilee asked me almost rhetorically, like
it was expected, if you were going to become part of the team.”
“What team?” Peter asked. He tilted his cap backward. Tufts of short, dark curly
hair showed.
“That’s what I thought later. I don’t what I thought at the time. The conversation
remained light and forgiving. Not admissible in court.” They laughed.
“Your lawyers’s background.”
“I guess.” They walked slowly to the large front door with the oval crystal center,
etched with designs of Aphrodite and her Greek playmates from mythology. “Then later,
Merilee said something about the experiment, she didn’t know what the experiment was,
and you know, Peter, now that I’m talking about that first conversation, she said other
things. . .” She looked up at the scowl on Peter’s face. “You asked, darling. It’s the lawyer
in me.” She thought it odd and different, the varsity players weren’t practicing as hard as
they had in past years, they were only interesting in kissing cheerleaders, their girlfriends,
and nothing more. She implied some of the girls thought their behavior strange. Not that
they want to bed the young studs, you understand, but it is strange behavior for young
guys who at this time of their lives are ready to bop almost anything that smiles at them.
Well, you remember. . .”
“Too well,” Peter said. “I’m still that way with you.” He moved his eyebrows up
and down as he smiled. “You ever gonna practice law?”
“Don’t think so. You know, honey. I studied business law just to have the
background, then in order to really do anything with it, I wanted to pass the bar, but no,
I don’t think I’ll practice criminal law. Just civil.”
Peter nodded as he leaned against the oak frame of their front door.
“Well, in that conversation and in other revelations, I get the feeling that Merilee
and maybe Jake thinks that the team’s wins are in the realm of not being believable. She
used terms like, masculinity, physical prowess and quoted Jake and this is what sort of
bothered me. She said Jake had said, 'They ain’t pulling down any pink bloomers around
campi.’”
Peter guffawed. “Maybe it’s because of AIDS. Maybe they’re smarter than we
were. Maybe they have future plans. Jake said that?”
“Jake said precisely that according to Merilee. In lawyer’s language it’s hearsay,
I know but, and I hate to say this, where’s there’s smoke.”
“Gotcha,” Peter said. “Thanks,” as he kissed Jane. He opened the door and shouted
back to her as he ran slowly across the wide front porch and down the wood stairs. “I’m
taking the Jag, OK?”
Your little Jag-you-are, my love? Jane smiled, waved and nodded agreement.
Suddenly Peter stopped, turned and asked, “Did you notice the blood stains on the
sidewalk when we were moving in?”
“No.”
“No, huh?” He turned around and started down the front stairs. “OK. See you
later.”
She closed the door. Wonder what Target stirred up this time? Peter seems to
always be bothered by Target’s ideas, his thoughts, his fears. She walked slowly through
the wide front hall, down the narrow hall, past the living room on her right and heard
Babette in the kitchen. She stopped in doorway and observed Babette prepare canapés for
Jane’s guests.
“Hello, Miss. Jane. Has Peter departed for the game?”
“Un-huh.” She relaxed against the doorway. “You’ve been with the Lake family
for a long time?”
“Like I said, Miss, forty years next month. A very long time.” She walked to the
two-door refrigerator and placed the second large tray inside. She closed the door and
returned to her working table.
“So you were with the Lake family when Peter was born?”
“Oh, yes. I carried him home from the hospital. He was so precious. A lovely
baby. A lovely boy. So thoughtful to his family and me. A loving child I never knew
more.”
“His friends?”
Parker and little Target mostly. Target always talked nearly continuously. He
made Peter laugh a lot and Parker was the one who always wanted to direct games they
played. All beautiful little boys. I really hated to see them grow up. It all happened so fast
it seems.” She laid circular crackers on the tray. “And now me arthritis. I hope themedicine that Peter gave me helps. My fingers have hurt so long.” She laid circular slices
of beef on the crackers. He’ll be a fine doctor for Carleton. He loves this town and the
people in it. Not too many though. I think several thousand is all.”
“Four thousand,” Jane added, “at the latest census.”
“Has there been any scandals?”
“Not that I know about Miss.” She shook her head. “No. This is a good town.
Good people. Hard working people. The Lake family has lived in this house for
generations. . .”
“And it’s time we modernized, don’t you think?”
“Well, this new kitchen was a start. I like the arrangement, this work area, the
larger refrigerator, walk-in freezer.” She chuckled. “I’m glad I can’t get stuck in there
though. That safety lock and all.”
Jane talked to Babette, complimented her on the appearance and taste of her tasty
and colorful hors d’oeuvres. She thanked Babette and decided to grab a quick shower. She
hadn’t thought about Merilee and her vague comments for several months. Now that Peter
asked, why was she now thinking about rumors that were not only undefined, but
probably not true. She hurried up the front stairs.
End of Chapter One Top of Page Chapter Two of Four Chapters Parker slapped Peter on the back. It felt good to Peter. He missed Parker. Parker had a few
lines in his face but otherwise, his voice and manner were still pleasantly pompous as he
insisted on paying for Peter’s ticket, recommended only Kosher hot dogs, easy on the
popcorn and a diet drink with plenty of ice. Peter smiled at his friend.
As they waited in line for a tall drink, Parker put his hands on Peter’s waist and
turned him to look at him. He slapped his hip and grabbed his shoulders firmly. “You look
great. As good as I remember you. It’s been so long. How come you spent so many years
in school, grad school, med school?”
Peter laughed as Parker answered his own questions. He pushed Parker gently.
Both men knew it had been too long since they touched each other. They were happy and
smiled at the child in front of Peter took his drink and left the counter. “Two diet drinks.
It doesn’t matter what flavor, right?”
“Right,” Parker said. He waited for Peter to greet the woman behind the counter.
“What?” Peter asked.
“Hello, Peter Lake,” the blond said.
Peter stared. “Jenine?” She had put on weight.
She smiled. Peter was relieved he recognized Jenine Spangler, a high school
buddy, buddy.
“How have you been?”
“Fine. Are you back for good now? Same house?”
“Yes and yes, indeed,” Peter replied. Peter wasn’t certain of the expression on
Parker’s face as Jenine handed Peter change and they walked away from the counter.
“What was that all about?” Peter asked. He sipped his grape drink.
“She’s divorced. Stay away from her.”
“Oh?” Peter said. “She’s put on weight too.”
“Considerable. The jerk she was married to gave her a hard time. Rumor has it
her family had considerable money before the divorce and now she’s practically
penniless. . .”
“That bad, huh?” They walked toward the Carleton side of the field and noticed
the stands, nearly full. They’re expecting another win. We’ll see. I hope so. “Jenine and
I always talked about way out things, like. . .”
“Will you look at all the people. The stadium’s almost full. I guess they’ve been
filling the place since they started winning.”
“You mean you haven’t come to any of these football or basketball games?”
“No. Why should I? I have no interest.”
“I thought you and Decker were buddies?”
“What in hell gave you that idea?”
“Probably a lifetime of you kissing ass.”
“You’re silly.” Parker looked up into the crowded stands. He held up two fingers
and said, “That guy says there’s room for up there.” Parker said, “You don’t have a
cushion. Your butt is gonna be flat by halftime.”
“I’ll be OK. You lead the way.”
The teams ran onto the field at the same time and both sides of the stadium went
loud: cheering, bands, jumping and screaming cheerleaders. Peter was impressed by the
spirit of Carleton and North Sands supporters. He and Parker squeezed in between two
men, that Peter didn’t recognize. He smiled as he sat down. Their hips touched. Peter
excused himself to the muscular man in coveralls. The stranger indicated he didn’t mind.
Parker purposely and playfully bumped and rubbed his leg against Peter’s other
hip and smiled. He placed his hand on his knee. “I’m glad you’re back in Carleton, Peter.
You don’t know how glad I am.” Peter smiled.
Parker was his usual bossy self but long ago Peter came to believe in Parker. He
knew Parker was a good friend and had Peter’s welfare in mind, ever since they were
kids. He recalled Parker told him to go to college, become a doctor and practice in
Carleton. “You can take care of me when we’re old. You won’t need to charge me much
money because you’ll be so rich with all the high fees you’ll charge. . .”
“I’m really glad to be home,” Peter said and returned Parker’s friendly pat.
Peter and Parker chatted, watched the pretty young cheerleaders, the movements
of the teams in their warmup sessions and Peter finally finished his hot dog.
“What did you mean before, when you accused me of kissing Don Decker’s ass?”
“A figure of speech, Parker. I thought you thought he was the greatest thing since
beer in cans.”
“No. Never. I’m always nice to people who can or might send business my way;
my hardware store.”
“How’s it doing?”
“Fine. I’ve got four young plumbers working for me. I guess their plumbing.”
“What does that mean, Parker?” Peter started on his popcorn.
“Well, when they have the time, during slow periods, they come back to the store
and bull shit in the plumber’s room in the store.”
“Yeah?”
“The stories they tell. I’ll tell you about them sometime. They are stories that need
not be shouted. They required soft tones and innuendos. This game is not the place.”
“Sound interesting.” Peter scanned the field for the kickoff. “Hey. Carleton’s
kicking off.”
“Interesting?” Parker replied. “According to their stories, I don’t know how these
studs fine time to do any plumbing.”
They looked at each other and laughed. The crowd roared as the football flew
through the air almost to the goal line. A North Sands player caught in ran toward the
sidelines.
“He’s really hauling ass,” Parker shouted.
Peter nodded. Suddenly a maroon blur, a Carleton player flew horizontally to the
North Star ball carrier, knocked him out of the playing field but fell on the football.
“Hey. Great!” Peter shouted. “Very professional.”
“Yeah. Aren’t they?”
Peter understood Parker’s subtlety and looked at his eyes. What is hidden behind
those big blues? Parker didn’t smile but disengaged from Peter’s dark brown eyes and sat
down. Peter sat, squeezed in between the stranger’s and Parker’s hips and decided that
Parker meant nothing by his comment. He turned his attention toward the field as Carleton
snapped the ball. The maroon backfield ran toward right end while the quarterback ran in
long strides around left end. He faced two tacklers. Peter watched the Carleton
quarterback stiff-arm first tackler who hit the ground hard as though he’d been hit by a
steel girder. The second tackler whirled around in the air as the quarterback stepped lively
and to much fanfare from the Carleton band and student body for the first Carleton
touchdown.
Everyone around Peter, including the stranger, jumped up and down,
congratulated one another, screamed and cheered on the Carleton team. The burly man
shook Peter’s hand and continued cheering. Peter laughed. “That was easy,” Peter shouted.
He pulled Parker, he thought reluctantly, to his feet.
“Too easy, maybe.”
Peter remained standing and clapped in time with the school song. The stadium
roared as Peter remembered other games of dead silence. No touchdowns. No cheering.
Now the five thousand seat stadium was alive and he was thrilled to watch his old high
school team play a winning game.
He watched Carleton kickoff and wondered why the Carleton players seemed to
hold back. Why did they miss some tackles? He sat down again next to Parker. There was
room between Parker and Peter and Peter and the ex-football player on his left. “Shouldn’t
have missed those tackles. Need more practice,” the man said as he pushed popcorn into
his mouth. “Need more practice.”
Peter listened to the man’s comments but wasn’t sure he agreed. The Carleton
players body movements indicated they were in control, confident, and purposely missed
some tackles.
The cheering and noise in the stadium lowered to normal game sounds. North
Sands got one yard, then two, then one and kicked the ball. People in the stands stood as
the Carleton speedster caught the ball and headed for the sidelines. “He’s gonna run down
the sidelines,” Peter shouted.
Suddenly the player reversed his field and ran diagonally across the field leaving
a wake of North Star tacklers behind him. He skipped into the end zone by himself. Peter
would bet money that the kid had kicked in an after burner somewhere up his ass to move
forward, stop quickly, avoid a tackler, and then move like a roadrunner toward the goal.
“Amazing,” Peter said as he sat down. He had the feeling, the game was too easy
for the Carleton kids.
“Wait’ll you see the final score,” Parker said. “I’m gonna get some coffee. I’ll be
back at halftime. You want some?”
“Sure,” Peter said. Why doesn’t Parker share my enthusiasm? Why is he glum?
Top of Page Chapter Three of Four Chapters Peter glanced at the scoreboard. Carleton 34. North Sands 0. And it’s only halftime. He
reviewed the game while others around him left the area, walked down the concrete stadium stairs,
said they were leaving. “The game is over, I tell you,” a happy, excited Carleton fan shouted to his
unenthusiastic wife. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Yippee!” she said in a droll tone. Peter watched the couple and many fans leave carrying
their maroon, square foam, stadium seat pads. Most of the men wore short pants and women for the
most part still sported shorts and summer dresses.
Peter had watched the Carleton team leave the field. Can’t say they strutted. It’s more like
they walked with a purpose. No individual traits. All the same way. Maybe it’s their training. They’re
certainly in good physical condition. They’re strong, muscular but appear about the same size as the
other team. Trim, tight fitting pants. Good curves. Obviously well-trained young athletes. It confused
Peter that they all acted alike. He wasn’t certain why he was upset. He looked down.
Parker walked slowly up the stairs and stepped sideways to where Peter sat. “How are you
doing?” he asked.
“Where have you been?” Peter said.
“Long line at the snack bar. That’s where. The coffee’s strong but it’s tasty. You won’t need
anything to warm you up tonight. Besides, it’s rather comfortable, don’t you think? You’re up to your
gotchkees in old school sentimentality. . .”
Peter was stunned by the tone of Parker’s comment. “Parker?” He took his hot cup and set it
on the bleacher next to where the big man had sat. The area was now vacant. “What is going on here?
What’s going on in Carleton?”
Parker knew Peter was serious when he called him ‘Parker.’
Their conversation continued. Peter listened and watched the kickoff, the fumble and another
Carleton score as he queried Parker. Parker avoided direct answers and Peter asked, “Why? Don’t you
have answers? You seem to have accusations. Innuendos. I don’t understand your attitude, Parker.
After all the pain we suffered in school, those four terrible years. We had good athletes but when the
time came for a winning touchdown, point after or field goal, we didn’t come through. Even my folks
stopped talking about our close losses. Shit. It would have been easier if the losses were big -- wide
margins but Parker, one or two points? My heart was broken many times and I know that yours. . .”
“Mine too, Pete.”
“Well, our parents finally stopped going to the games because they couldn’t stand to see their
sons break down and cry like five-year-old kids. My parents supported my right up to the end. But
you have to remember, there weren’t many in the stands.”
“I know,” Parker said, as he looked down at his coffee.
The announcer’s voice boomed over the stadium. “So the score with four minutes left in the
fourth quarter is Carleton 52. North Sands 12.”
Peter looked up at the scoreboard and expressed surprise that he and Parker had missed most
of the second half. The stadium was nearly empty. Only a sparse attendance remained. “How many
people are still here?”
Parker looked around both sides of the stadium. “So maybe five-hundred. The same thing’s
happening. It started at the beginning of last season.”
“And that is?” Peter asked.
“They know something ain’t quite right. These kids are still kids. They’re not superhuman.
Two players from other teams last year had broken necks. They’ll never walk again. While several . . .
I didn’t keep up with it. It saddened me to think of those young bodies withering away. . .”
“What? What are you saying?” Peter asked, and turned Parker toward him.
“A few lucky young players got out of the game with broken legs, arms, wrists. Almost
every game had a serious injury. Didn’t you read about the inquiries?”
“No. No, I didn’t. I don’t remember anything about that.” Peter looked at the sadness in
Parker’s face. “Maybe that’s what Target is talking about.”
“Oh, Target is the one. He knows a lot about what’s happening. Or, I guess he knows a lot.
Do you know that Target’s life has been threatened?”
“For what? Why?” Peter saw the fear in Parker’s eyes.
“For writing the sports stories he’s written. Especially the story about Carleton’s Wooden
Soldiers.”
“What does that mean? Have you talked to Target recently? Do you keep in touch?”
“He’s in Riverside. I guess you knew that.”
“Yeah,” Peter said.
The game horn sounded.
“That’s it,” the announcer chose his words confidently. “Another win!” he bellowed. “Another
victory for the Carleton Cardinals.” He took a deep breath. “Carleton 62. North Sands 12. Thanks for
supporting your local state champion high school football team. Carleton. Carleton. Rah. Rah. Rah.”
His words sounded hollow and contained a sexual tone. People left the stadium slowly.
Peter asked, “Carleton High is State Champions?”
“Yeah, babe. Where have you been?”
“I’m not certain, Peter said.
Parker stared at Peter. His expression repeated his previous words. Surprise. Surprise. After
a short time Parker asked. “Do you want to see Don?”
“Decker?”
“Yeah.”
“Not particularly. Why?” The stood and walked to the center aisle.
“I saw him at the half. I told him you were here. He said bring him by.”
“Tonight? In the varsity locker room?”
“Yeah. I’m sure that’s what he meant. He’s proud of the kids.”
“Oh, I’m sure he is.”
“He inquired about your health.”
“That would be a first,” Peter said and laughed.
“You two guys are still not the best of friends are you?”
“Different spheres, I guess. Don’s only goal was winning. I don’t think he cared how. Mine
was playing the games. Being given a fair chance.”
“Uh-huh,” Parker said. He blinked slowly.
Peter understood Parker’s suggestion. When Shulie blinks slowly he wants me to think about
what’s just been said. What?
Parker looked straight ahead as they walked toward the stadium exit. A lazy and relaxed
sparse home crowd walked with them.
Peter listened to the words he had just spoken. Different spheres, I guess. Don’s only goal
was winning. I don’t think he cared how.
Peter and Parker looked at each other out the corner’s of their eyes. Peter nodded as he
followed Parker toward Carleton’s Varsity Dressing Room. His heart began to beat rapidly. He felt the
excitement, but heard few cheers from the football players. The smell of the tunnel, under the stadium,
is still the same.
“Yes, sir, Charlie Speers said, motioning Peter and Parker forward. He touched his fingers to
his policeman’s wide brim hat. “Mr. Shulman.” He saw Peter and opened his eyes wide and smiled.
“Say. You’re Peter Lake. John. Partner, will you lookie here. That young scalawag, Pete Lake.” Peter
blushed and was surprised that Charlie and John remembered him. They talked to Peter at the same
time, patted h is back, slapped his butt a few times and told him how proud they were of him but not
the Carleton team he quarter backed.
“How are you guys. It’s been a few years.” Peter’s words sounded hollow to him too. He
looked up at the two policemen.
John continued to shake Peter’s hand. “Wish I taken movies or videos of your runs. They
were great. Best hip movements in the high school game. You didn’t play football in college, though,
did you?”
“No. My playing days were over. I needed to become a doctor like my dad.”
“God bless your dad. Damien Lake was my dad’s doc and mine as you well know, Peter.”
Peter nodded. He was warmed by John’s sentimental words. His name is John Leach. That’s
right. I recall now. John’s Irish manner reminded Peter of the sounds of his father.
Peter patted Charlie and John and told them he would see them later, as he followed Parker
into the Carleton locker room. He quickly scanned the facilities. They’ve enlarged them since my day.
He saw naked young bodies taking showers and relaxing, some getting careful rub downs, some
seriously examining different places on their anatomies, and talking about them, while others seemed
to practice walking. Strange. Peter frowned.
“Don’t stare at my young athletes. You’ll give them the wrong impression,” Don Decker
said, coming up fast toward Peter and Parker. He grabbed Peter’s hand and slapped his back, then put
his hand around his waist. He nudged Parker.
Parker boiled and caught Peter’s anger.
Peter felt Don’s solid grip around his waist. Give him enough time and he’ll feel my body and
not miss a spot. He hasn’t change. Wonder if he keeps his hands off these kids. Once again the prick
has said the wrong thing. Peter couldn’t smile. Don sported a paunch and was not in the shape he
needed to set an example for the young men in his charge.
“Come on Peter. These kids don’t look any different than we did. Don’t you wish we had
some wins in our day like the one tonight?” Don guided Danny toward the opposite end of the long
dressing room. Blood dripped from his arm.
Peter didn’t understand why some young men had orange strips that looked like band-aides
on the bodies: necks, arms, thighs, and down the back of their legs.
“Orange strips,” Parker said, quietly to Peter as Don argued briefly with an assistant coach.
“Something like time release vitamins.”
“Never heard of vitamin strips,” Peter said, not believing Don’s explanation. “Wonder where
I’ve been?”
“Hey, big eyes,” Don barked at the coach. “Danny’ll be alright. Shut the fuck up, will you?”
“Now do you have a question?” Don asked staring at Parker.
Parker rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Why the orange strips on the kids’ bodies?”
“It’s a mental thing. When they catch a ball they think about the orange strips on their arms.
When they run, they think about orange strips on their thighs, the backs of their legs. . ..”
“Do any of your athletes wear orange strips on their dingers?” Parker asked, “you know.
When they whack. . .”
“That kind of talk ain’t necessary,” Don said..
“Why?” Peter asked.
Don turned to Peter. “We’ll talk about it, Pete. New theories. New ideas. Aren’t you a
doctor?”
“You know I am you asshole.” Peter grew angry. He was determined to control himself with
Don. Don had a nasty way about him. Thoughtless. Peter knew he would never like Don Decker.
Don held the door to his private office open for Peter and Parker. Peter thought Parker was
amazingly silent. “Sit down. Be comfortable,” Don suggested, as he closed the door. He sat behind a
desk piled high with papers and forms. Peter gazed out into the dressing room through the two glass
panels. Naked and partially clad young athletes roamed the room, chatted, shook hands, and only
occasionally smiled at one another.
“Potential scholarships for the kids,” Don said.
“What?” Peter asked. “What are you talking about?”
“All these papers here. It’s a lot of work. We’re getting more of them into school these days.
Hardly any of us made it when we graduated. . .”
“You graduated two years before Parker and me,” Peter said. He was concerned as a naked
young man, towel around his shoulders, walked toward the team doctor. He has a distinct limp. Blood
dripped and trickled down his thigh. The young kids converged, some wearing only their dress shirts,
gathered around the young man in pain and the doctor. Naked bodies, bruise marks and orange band-
aides in specific locations. This is a nightmare!
“That’s Lance Harlow. You should know his father,” Don said. “Lance is always cutting
himself. He’s a little careless. Somewhat accident prone. We think he may be something of a bleeder.
It’s just minor though, I’m sure. Nothing serious.”
Don has an answer for everything. If the world ended this minute he’d say it was because the
sun didn’t come up right this morning. Peter didn’t understand how Don could be relaxed about a
bleeding athlete in his charge. “That wound is more than a scratch, Don,” Peter said as he rose from
his chair and walked out of the room. He hurried to the group.
Peter pushed the young men aside and said to the trainer who knelt in front of Lance. “I don’t
know you. My name is Peter Lake. I’m a doctor. Can I help?”
“What do you mean?”
“This boy is bleeding somewhat heroically there, wouldn’t you say?”
“That’s Lance,” the trainer said. “Do I know you, Mr. Lake?”
“I would say no,”Peter said and without hesitation turned to Lance and looked down at his
leg. That’s an incision or I’m not a doctor. It doesn’t look as though it has healed the way it should.
Lance held the three inch long orange strip in his hand.
“How’d you get that cut, son?” Peter asked.
“I don’t know,” Lance said.
It’s obvious the boy is scared. His body turned pink as he blushed spreading a pink flush
everywhere.
“That’s OK now,” Peter replied. “Relax. Don’t get excited. You must remember how that
happened. Who cut you that way?”
“No sir, I don’t,” Lance said. He looked around the room as if expecting someone to tell him
what to say.
Nothing convicts like guilt, Peter thought. Lance has to be Kathryn’s kid. What a good
looking young man. “Don’t you and your parents live next door to my family’s home?
“Yes, sir,” Lance said. He spoke as though he were afraid of Peter.
“Don’t be afraid, son,” Peter said. It hasn’t been too many years that I was in his position.
Young, loved football, people expected everything from me. Physical and natural athletic ability. Nice
kid. Great presence and attitude. He started to peer under the orange strip again.
Suddenly there was a firm grasp on Peter’s upper arm. Don pulled him away from the group.
He pulled Peter close to him. Don’s eyes narrowed. “I invited you to come and see the lads, not to
come and scare them to death.”
Don spit as he talked. He had bad breath. Peter wanted to ask him where he’d been keeping
his tongue. He didn’t. Instead, he backed away from Don. Suddenly, Don screamed at Peter through
clenched jaws but with a firm and subdued tone. “I want you to get your bucket out of here and don’t
ever come back. Ever, do you understand?” He poked Peter’s chest.
Parker moved toward Peter to suppport him.
“You got that straight?” Don shouted.
“He’s lost it,” Parker whispered.
Peter heard Parker’s comment and agreed. He turned as the young men walked slowly away
from the Lance. Peter saw buttocks and orange strips on the back of their legs. Some of the strips
appeared a shade of crimson. Why are the kids bleeding that way? What’s the problem here?
The trainer had thrown a long terry robe over the boy as they walked slowly toward a private
exit.
“Guilty is as guilty does,” Parker said.
“Get out of here. Both of you,” Don said and pointed toward the door. “That way,” he said.
“Come on, Pete, let’s go,” Parker advised. He took Peter’s arm.
Peter pushed Don away from him. “I took you, got the best of you, one time when you
grabbed me where you shouldn’t. I don’t know why you tried to ruin me, but I think you purposely
meant to hurt me. But I’ll tell you this, Don. I can take you again. You’re still the same prick you
always were. You haven’t changed. It’s always been Don Decker first, the world second. And that’s
the way you think!”
Don pushed Peter away from him. “Get out of my sight.”
Parker put his hands up to separate the men. “Some crappy greeting you give to an old
buddy,” Parker said. His anger was with Don. “I don’t believe you. You’re a monster.”
Don ignored Parker and shouted over his shoulder to the trainer, “You know where to take
Lance. Get him patched up. Get going now.”
Peter and Parker walked hurriedly to the exit, the way they came into the locker room. They
glanced through the private doorway and saw the trainer help Lance into a private car. What? No
ambulance? That kid was really bleeding. Peter glowered at Parker. “Let’s get to my house and quick!”
Peter stopped. “Hey, Shulie! What did that guy say?”
“I thought he said, ‘Get this kid to the locker room’, but I don’t know for certain.”
“Yeah, that’s what I heard too. Let’s go!”
Peter and Parker ran out of the locker room and headed toward Peter’s Jag.
“What are we gonna do and don’t run so damned fast,” Parker shouted.
“We’ve got to find out what’s going on. Get to the bottom of this terror.”
“How?” Parker shouted as Peter took out his keys and unlocked the car.”Leave your car here,
OK, Shulie?”
“Yeah, but why?”
“We’ve got a lot of work to do. The night isn’t over.” He started the engine as Parker jumped
in and slammed his door shut.
“We have a lot of work to do? Is that right?” Parker said. “You don’t know how dangerous
this thing is, Pete. You just don’t know.”
Peter swerved out of the parking lot onto Maple Avenue.
“Where are we going, Two-gun?”
Peter recalled the nickname, Two-gun, Parker gave to him when they were boys. He smiled.
“We’ve got to get in touch with Target, Shulie and now.”
The headlights of a second car lit up a side street. The dark car pulled out onto the main
boulevard leading from the stadium. It followed Peter’s Jag. Peter didn’t know the car followed him.
Order “The Locker Room”, Chapters 1,2,3, and 4 Read the exciting conclusions in Chapter Four. What does Peter learn? What’s happening in the locker room at Carleton High School? Is the underworld involved? Are teachers and coaches misusing young athletes? Read the exciting conclusion in Chapter Four. |
The Locker Room
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
|
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This web page is Copyright (C) 1997 by Richard L Swift.
The Novella “The Locker Room”
and Chapters 1, 2, 3, and 4 from “The Locker Room ”
are Copyright (C) 1997 by Vic Champion. All Rights Reserved.