The Coaster (10 page)

“I'm not sure if I should be insulted or not,” I said.

“I wouldn't feel too bad,” Nellie said. “He hasn't even gotten to us yet.”

“I'm getting there,” Corny said. “Coaster status is not necessarily difficult to achieve. Anyone can do it, really. But only a select few have the talent to do it well. The coaster's gift is the ability to socialize with the powerful people and make them laugh or think or whatever might be needed.”

“But I'm not good at hobnobbing with those people,” I said.

“You think you're not, but you are,” Corny said. “You may not be comfortable around them, but they're comfortable around you. Maybe because you're non-threatening. Who knows?”

“So, how does one get to be a coaster?” Lang asked.

“A coaster connects to a higher level person directly by birthright or indirectly through marriage or friendship.”

“It can't be that simple,” Nellie said.

“Sure it is,” Corny said. “Look at Bob's family. Sam was the engine, Sarah is the propeller and Bob is the coaster. And that's where you clowns come in. You guys are drafters. Basically, any friend of a coaster is a drafter. If Bob has access to the incredible trip or fantastic golf course, you and Lang will be the guys he invites to share it all with. You're in the same social strata, but Bob is just better connected.”

“Okay,” I said, “Maybe it
kind of
works for my family, but not every group.”

“It works for anybody.” Corny said. “Further down are the barnacles, the people nobody likes but who get to hang around because they make beer runs or do the driving.”

“So how can you tell what you are?” Nellie asked.

“If you don't know for sure, then you're a barnacle. Of course, even a barnacle is a step up from your everyday working stiff, who's not even in the picture at all, unless he's serving drinks to these people or parking their cars. Which is why the barnacle is willing to take the shit he does. It's worth it.”

“That's an incredible theory, Corny,” I said. “You've really outdone yourself this time. But there's one thing I haven't figured out. What are you?”

“I'm a shark, Bobby. I take what I want from everybody else.”

Chapter Twelve

At about ten, the ribaldry began to slow down, but Nellie had had enough beers to rethink his plan to go home early. “Come on, Lang, let's stay out a while. How often is Corny in town?”

“Don't you have to go to work in the morning?” Lang asked.

“Hell, no, I own the place,” Nellie said. “I can do whatever I want.”

“Well, I can't,” Lang said. “Unlike you two, I have to show up at work. I have to meet with clients. I can't be all hungover, with alcohol seeping out of my pores. Maybe if I could steam it all out in the sauna, like the one Bob's father-in-law had. That thing was awesome.”

I was puzzled. “When did you ever see that sauna? It was in the master bathroom.”

Lang shrugged. “Sam must have told me about it. I was his lawyer, you know. Anyway, I can't stay.”

“Okay, you go,” Nellie said. “I'll stay out with the fun people.”

“I'm your ride,” Lang said. “Plus, your hall pass expires at ten. Your wife told me herself.”

“You better go, Nellie,” I said. “I don't want her blaming me when you're too ‘sick' to go to work tomorrow.”

Corny was strangely quiet during this exchange. In college, he would have called Nellie a pussy and forced a couple of shots down his throat. Instead, he said, “I understand you guys have family obligations. I appreciate you making the effort to come out at all. Don't worry, I'll be back in town soon.”

Nellie grudgingly acquiesced. “All right, let's go. But try to remember what happens if it gets crazy so you can tell me later.”

“If it gets crazy, we'll be calling you in a couple hours to bail us out.” I hoped Corny knew I was joking. I was a little nervous about my ability to keep things under control by myself. Corny was fearless even in the sober light of day, but get a few drinks in him and he thought he was bulletproof.

Nellie and Lang each threw the obligatory inadequate twenty down on the table and headed out. “I must not have seen that sign that said beers were three for one tonight,” I called after them.

Corny grinned at me. “Don't worry, Bobby. I got it. This night's a business expense for me.” He handed me one of the twenties and winked. “We just made twenty apiece off book. It may come in handy later.”

“See, you
were
winking at me earlier.”

“When someone winks at you, it's a secret between you and them,” Corny said. “You don't point it out to everyone else. I didn't want to talk about the deal I was working on with Sam in front of those guys. Obviously now that Sam's dead, everything's up in the air.”

“So do you want to run it by me?”

“Sure, sometime. But not tonight. We're here to have fun. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. So what
do
people do for fun in this town?”

“Old people like me go home and get a good night's sleep and go to work in the morning with a clear head.”

“
Or,
we could stay out late and you could not worry about work. You're your own boss. And how often does your old buddy Corny come to town?”

“That's exactly what Nellie said and you let him go home.”

“Nellie's wife and kids aren't out of town,” Corny said. “Let's go to Club Paradise.”

“That's where the hip twentysomethings hang out,” I said. “I'm sure they'll be thrilled to have a couple of middle-aged guys join the party.”

“I've got some people we can meet.”

“You have some people?” I asked. “Why do you have people here?”

“I have people everywhere.”

***

Corny was one of those annoying out-of-towners who knew your city better than you did. In the cab on the way to the bar I asked him, “Why Club Paradise?”

“It's Two for Tuesday.”

“How the hell do you know that?”

“The question isn't how I know it, it's how do you not know it?”

“I'm like a retired golfer,” I said. “You don't ask Jack Nicklaus about the new courses on tour.”

“God, Sarah keeps you on a tight leash, doesn't she? I remember how she can be.”

“She was pretty cool back when you knew her in college. She didn't really care what I did.”

“Maybe not,” Corny said. “But I'm talking about when I went out with her.”

I must have had a shocked expression on my face. “We went out for a while in college,” Corny said. “You knew that, didn't you?”

Corny had to be full of shit. He usually was. “Are you joking?”

“We just went on a couple dates,” Corny said. “Well, not really dates, just late night booty calls. Maybe that's why no one knew.”

Sarah wouldn't cheat on me, would she? I know she doesn't know the real me. What makes me think I know the real her?
Nobody knows anybody
. “We pretty much dated throughout college, except for a few brief breaks. What year was that, again?”

“How the hell should I know? I'm pretty sure you were broken up, though. Don't worry. It was no big deal. Just sex. She was chasing danger and a little wild fun. I was just the boy toy.”

“That makes me feel a lot better, Corny.”

***

Club Paradise was hopping. I'd forgotten what two-for-one nights were like. At my age I prefer my bars empty and quiet. On the rare occasions I go out with my friends, I like to have a conversation with them without shouting, so Club Paradise is not high on my list. Although the name made it sound like a strip joint, it was actually a typical dive bar for young professionals. Which meant it was a pretend dive bar designed to appeal to hipsters who thought they were cool when they were slumming it. It was kind of dirty and there were initials carved into the tables and they had dancing, shots, and cheap drinks, but the place wasn't full of alcoholics and barflies like a real dive bar would be. Whatever it was, it was packed. Two for Tuesday was alive and well.

We sat at the bar and I ordered two Bud Lights. “Fuck that!” Corny shouted. “Bring us the house special. Two hurricanes.” The bartender set four hurricanes in front of us. For some reason, when it's two for one, everybody orders the normal amount and then gets twice as many drinks as they want. You'd think we'd be smart enough to just order one and get two. Maybe it's more fun to get a bonus than a discount.

Corny turned his stool around and surveyed the bar. “Not bad for a Tuesday. Lots of possibilities.”

“Yeah, for somebody looking for a father figure.”

“Fortunately, most of them are.”

Corny turned and slid a hurricane in front of me. “Since we got two, let's chug the first one.” Maybe that's why people go four for two instead of two for one. To force their friends to drink.

Corny raised his glass in toast. It's easy to say this now, but it felt like a significant moment, like my life was changing and would never be the same again. “To old friends, new possibilities and ham-handed foreshadowing!” he said. Or at least that's how I remember it.

By the time I managed to choke my hurricane down, Corny was gone from the bar, I assumed to “powder his nose” for the fiftieth time that evening. Corny's hurricane was gone in an eye blink, but mine took thirty-seven tiny gulps, each one more bile-inducing than the last. A hurricane was not a shot, we just drank it that way. I had no idea what was in it, but it's almost all liquor and it was in a plastic keg cup with four measly ice cubes floating on top. Not an easy chug for me. I spent the next few minutes swallowing saliva in an effort not to throw up all over the bar. The evening was taking a bad turn.

When I finally regained my equilibrium, Corny returned and he was not alone. He had two friends with him and by “friends” I mean “hot chicks.”

“Bobby, this is Natalie and Alexis. Girls, this is my best buddy, Bob.” A bit of an overstatement since we've seen each other maybe three times in twenty years and he just confessed to sleeping with my wife in college, but I didn't contradict him. What difference did it make?

These women were late twenties, attractive, and dressed sexy casual in jeans and sandals with higher heels than anything in my wife's closet. My first thought was apprehension. Hot women intimidate me. Whatever limited game I ever had has been long lost to the ravages of marriage and time. I had nothing to say, but it appeared the floor was mine. Fortunately, I was still on the upward track of the roller coaster that is my conversational skill when drinking.

Glancing at Corny, I said, “So are you all old friends or new friends?”

Natalie, or maybe Alexis, smiled sweetly. “Well, both. We've known Dave a long time but we just met you.”

Corny barked out an order for four (read: eight) tequila shots. I'm a fairly seasoned drinker (just ask my wife!), but the dam in my throat was already backing up at the mere thought of a tequila shot. Corny and his “friends” made me feel like a fourteen-year-old girl with a bottle of Boone's Farm.

During one of the girls' frequent trips to the restroom together, I believe I turned to Corny. “So who are these chicks?”

“Well, I guess you could say they're coworkers of mine,” Corny probably said with a grin. “They help me at the office.”

“Help with what?” I asked. “Is there a staff fluffer position at your office? Are you running an escort service on the side? These gals don't look like any financial people I've ever seen.”

“Right,” Corny said. “Not the kind
you've
ever seen. But that's not saying much. Don't sweat it, Bobby. They're with me. And they're also with
you
. You know what I mean?” Big smile, possibly leering.

I'm not a guy who goes out looking to score. I'm too self-aware to think there wouldn't be guilt or other negative ramifications. But I also normally don't have the temptation. I'm not out trolling and nobody is seeking me out, but tonight for some reason they seemed to be. And I was still rattled from that Corny firebomb about him and Sarah. No wonder she didn't want him to come to the house.

Add in Sarah rejecting my bid for pre-trip sex, and I may have been a little more susceptible than usual to the charms of an attractive and seemingly interested woman. It's not an excuse for cheating but it's more understandable when your own wife acts like it's a chore to have sex with you. You think to yourself, “She doesn't want to. Maybe I should find someone who does.”

I thought about the logistics of a possible hookup with Alexis/Natalie. If I had sex with a hot young girl, it wouldn't look right. My flabby old man body pressed up against her taut, glistening, young flesh—well, maybe I could give it a shot. “Look, I'm as horny as the next guy,” I said to Corny. If the next guy is so drunk he can't feel his legs. “But I'm not looking for action.”

“Bob, we're just partying. Don't get your panties in a bunch.”

The girls came back from the bathroom, noses “powdered” and spirits high. At some point it became clear that we had paired up. I was with Natalie, Corny with Alexis. It made no difference to me since I could barely tell them apart and I wasn't going to do anything anyway.

Corny and Alexis were getting pretty cozy when a very large young man approached our table. He apparently had also taken a shine to Alexis and asked her to dance. He was in his early twenties and ridiculously muscular. He had bulked up everything you could bulk up to the point that his unalterable parts were now too small for his body. Beady little eyes inside a massive block of a head. A tiny soul patch under his lip that looked like his Hitler mustache had slipped down an inch. Surprisingly small hands and feet and ears. But the guy was strong, no doubt about that, and probably full of 'roid rage. I wouldn't have messed with him.

Nobody needed to jump in anyway. Alexis could handle guys like this in her sleep. “No, thanks, Junior. I'm having a quiet drink with my friends.”

The guy looked slowly back and forth between me and Corny and then turned his attention back to Alexis. “Come on, a beautiful girl like you can do better than a couple of old guys.” A minor insult, no harm, no foul in my mind, we'd ignore him and he'd go away. Corny leapt out of his chair, grabbed the guy's wrist, twisted it violently behind his back and shoved his face down on our table, scattering hurricanes everywhere. Corny used the guy's face like a bar rag to mop up the rapidly spreading pool of red liquid. It looked like cough syrup—maybe that's the secret ingredient. I kept waiting for the guy to shrug Corny off, but he couldn't do a thing. He was completely helpless.

“Apologize to the lady,” Corny said.

The guy was able to squeeze a sound that might have been the word “sorry” out of the corner of his mouth, so Corny let him up. He was furious. “You got the jump on me there, but this isn't over. Let's take this outside and I'll mop up the parking lot with
your
face.”

“Okay.” Corny pulled out his cell phone and dialed three numbers. “But before we go outside, I'm going to call you a ride.”

“What are you talking about? I don't need a ride.”

Corny waived him off and spoke into the phone. “Hello, 911? Please send an ambulance to Club Paradise. A man has been seriously injured. Specifically? I'm not sure yet, but I'm guessing at least one dislocated elbow, a broken jaw, and definitely a concussion. Maybe even a fractured skull. Thank you.”

The guy's eyes darted around the room at all the people watching. “We'll see who needs the ambulance.” He stormed out the door.

Corny sat back down and signaled our waitress. “Four more hurricanes and sorry for the mess.”

“What about your friend outside?” I asked.

“Are you kidding? He's long gone. He'll say I never showed up outside to fight him. Which is technically true, but he practically ran to his car.”

“Did you really call an ambulance?”