Chapter 12: Pass the Tostitos

It kind of rambles, but I'm a ramblin' man...this is the second-to-last chapter.

Chapter 12 – Pass the Tostitos

The oven beeped. My timing couldn’t be better. The chicken tenders doused in Frank’s hot sauce, “healthy” olive oil and sea salt French fries from Whole Foods, and roasted veggies were ready. My afternoon snack of fresh grind peanut butter and an apple barely tided me over. I had the cooler filled with Newcastle and bottled water next to the couch. I TiVo’d the game, which technically started at 8:15, so I could fast-forward through the pre-game garbage and skip the boring, repetitive commercials. TiVo is a magical, wonderful thing.

I heard a knock on the door.

“Come on in!” I yelled. I had the remote in one hand and the first beer of the evening encased in a Tennessee Titans koozie in the other. I needed a third hand to eat.

“It’s the football fanatic in his native environment,” said a cynical female voice behind me.

“You’re just here for the free grub,” I replied, not daring to look away from the pretty pictures. “Coming up next, Ohio State versus Florida,” the announcer said. I fast-forwarded to the moment when the University of Florida kicker put foot to ball and pressed pause.

Like any Atlanta resident on the interstate passing a flaming wreck, I couldn’t help myself. I looked. Nadine had eyeblack under her eyes.

“You’re mental,” I said, suppressing a laugh.

“I’m getting into the mood. Haven’t you ever dressed like a moron at a football game?”

“Not in this universe,” I replied. “Nice jersey.”

Nadine wore a throwback Tom Brady Michigan jersey. It was a nice looking jersey. To add to the authenticity, it had a Fed Ex Orange Bowl patch. I had to give respect to the three-time Super Bowl champ, even though an unfortunate Titan defensive lineman was flagged for “roughing the quarterback” when he barely touched Brady’s foot last week. Brady led the Michigan Wolverines to an overtime victory over Alabama in the 2000 Orange Bowl. His reward was being selected 199th overall in the following year’s NFL draft. Nadine filled out the jersey in a way that Brady never could.

“It’s really nice. Did you use the cookbook?”

She referred to dinner. “Tonight’s fare is a Larry Smith original. As soon as I steal a grill I’ll start making some of Bobby’s best.”

We agreed to buy each other one Christmas gift. Nadine bought me a Bobby Flay Boy Meets Grill cookbook. It was kind of a joke since the closest thing to a grill I’m allowed to have in this fascist condo complex is a George Foreman. I got Nadine the jersey.

Nadine took a tender and bit. She nodded while chewing. A small dollop of sauce remained on the right corner of her mouth. I decided not to tell her about it.

“Are we going to get this party started?” she asked.

“I think you need a beverage.”

“Water me.”

I did. I pressed the pause button and the BCS Championship game started. Ted Ginn Jr., the star wideout for The Ohio State University, took the ball, avoided one tackle at the 30-yard-line and ran past the entire Florida team for a touchdown.

“Holy shit,” Nadine said, tender number two in her mouth. Normally the host gets to eat at least one.

Ohio State was highly favored in the game. They had been the number one ranked college football team since the preseason. College football has the strangest championship system in sports. At the end of the season the top two teams according to various polls and a couple of computers play for the title. The other teams play in semi-useless exhibitions called bowls. There’s almost always a controversy about the two teams selected for the championship game because of the subjectivity. Florida was number two, but was only one of six one-loss teams in the country. Ohio State was favored by seven, and most experts thought that Florida might hang around for a half if they were lucky. Giving up a game-opening kickoff return for a touchdown wouldn’t help.

I fast-forwarded through the first set of commercials, but ran into real time after a decent kickoff return by the Gators.

“How much do you hate Ohio State?”

“Why would I hate Ohio State?” she replied. The sauce was still there.

“You’re from Michigan.”

“This whole line of questioning is over my head, and therefore boring. By the way, my college boyfriend was from Ohio.”

“Sounds like an ass.”

Nadine looked at me. “He wasn’t.”

I gave her a look.

“Don’t push me on this. Besides, can you really hate another football team?”

“People can hate for all kinds stupid things. Hating a football team isn’t the end of the world.”

“Who’s that?” Nadine said, pointing to the Florida quarterback.

“Oh, that’s Chris Leak. He’s been the starter for four years.”

“I spent five years in college.”

“Couldn’t stretch it any more, could you?”

“I’m still paying for it, so no,” she said, giving me a quizzical look. “Oh yeah, tell me more about that Leak guy. I can’t wait.”

“Florida fans hate him.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s not an ideal fit for Urban Meyer’s offense.”

“Wait, there’s a guy named Urban?”

“That’s the coach. He was named after the pope.”

“I should know that.”

“I’ll try to make this brief,” I said, pressing pause on the remote. “Chris Leak signed with Florida right before Steve Spurrier left for the NFL. He had to deal with a new coach and started as a true freshman, which is pretty hard. The new coach was fired two years later, and Florida hired Urban Meyer.”

“I’ll just call him Oscar,” Nadine said, killing her first water a moment later. I passed her another.

“Meyer runs the spread offense, which requires a quarterback who’s a good runner. Leak didn’t fit the offense. Still, he started his junior year and the team didn’t have a great year. Heading into his senior year, Florida brought in a heralded freshman QB who ran the same offense in high school. He’s Tim Tebow. In short, Tebow has shared snaps with Leak. He comes in on obvious running plays and looked so good that Florida fans wanted Leak benched.”

“He’s what, 22?”

“Probably.”

“22 and over the hill.”

“If you say so. Leak led the team to an SEC Championship game and a berth in this championship game. He didn’t play well in the team’s only loss at Auburn. There’s a lot of pressure on him.”

“OK, I’m officially rooting for Florida now.”

The Gators must have been listening. Leak went five for five, including a nice touch pass between the cornerback and safety for a touchdown.

“You’re going to have to buy me a Leak jersey for Christmas next year,” she said. A second later her entire face turned crimson.

“Duly noted,” I replied, smiling.

Ohio State went three and out. Heisman Trophy winner and all-around swell guy Troy Smith stood too long in the pocket on third down and took the sack. Smith had a near-perfect season but wasn’t considered a major NFL prospect because he was listed at six feet even, which meant that he was probably 5’10. For an NFL quarterback, that’s a midget.

An Ohio State penalty gave Florida excellent field position. For the second time in the evening Leak converted a third down with a pass. On the following play he was replaced by the giant freshman.

“Boo,” Nadine said, clearly enjoying herself. Two plays later Florida scored again.

My cell phone rang before I could fast-forward through another series of commercials.

“I am loving this,” Tom said.

“You have a dog in this hunt?”

“I hate the Big 10.”

“Why, because they can’t count?” I rhetorically replied. The Big 10 conference, Ohio State’s conference, has eleven teams.

“Exactly,” Tom replied.

“There’s room for one more over here,” I said. Nadine flashed me. “On second thought. . .”

“Listen man, I wanted to tell you that tomorrow’s meeting has been moved up.”

“The breakfast meeting?”

“Yeah. It’s at eight.”

“Dude, the game isn’t going to be over until midnight. Maybe one a.m.”

“You were the one who signed up for this office manager gig. That means you have to manage some breakfast. Don’t forget James’ gluten allergy.”

I shuddered. “The things I have to do for an honest wage.”

“You were in need a few months ago. Tomorrow morning, I need bagels. Good ones.”

“You’d think that I never did anything for you. I seem to recall an evening last March when you were in the middle of a big slump.”

“Oh yes, the redhead at Limerick Junction. You really took one for the team that night.”

I had to think for a second. Simone? Bridget? All I remember was a French name on a girl who was easily the third-prettiest girl from whatever small town in Oklahoma from which she had just escaped. She had an easy manner to her, the key word being easy. I had a killer hangover the following morning and deserved it.

“I know, meeting a redhead at an Irish bar the week before Saint Patrick’s Day. It was quite the stretch.”

“She was easily worth a hundred years in purgatory.”

Nadine was about to hit the TiVo button and turn on something hideous like Best Week Ever. That was a clear violation of football day rules. All rules were void if I spent more than five minutes on a call.

“What happened to her?”

“She had to get that tattoo on the small of her back removed.”

“Was the tattoo a target?”

“There were initials. I didn’t ask. Are you watching the game alone?”

“No.”

“Oh, this is interesting. If Joseph’s not going down on you right now I can guess who probably is.”

“Tom, you know that’s what halftime is for.”

“Say hi to Nadine. Tell her that we missed her at trivia last week.”

“I didn’t go to trivia last week.”

“Exactly. 8 a.m., buddy.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

I ended the call. Go fuck yourself is male for “Have a good evening.”

“Eight a.m. is when I go to sleep,” Nadine said.

“I have to get breakfast for 12 people tomorrow morning, which means I need to get enough for 15. Maybe 20.”

“You’re getting good at this. Maybe you can start a catering company.”

“I’d just get doughnuts and coffee, but there’s an OC so I need to think of something else.”

“OC?”

“Overweight client.”

“Wouldn’t that be the target audience for fried bread?”

“You’d think so,” I said, sighing. “I liked talking about work a lot more when I didn’t have to go to an office to do it.”

“Speaking of work, aren’t you supposed to be blogging this game or something?”

“I’ll do it later.”

“Oh really?”

“I’ll consult the play-by-play online. There’s no need to be first to post when there are about ten thousand people doing the same thing.”

“Let’s get on with it, then.”

We did. Ohio State got one first down before Troy Smith threw an ill-advised third-down pass that was intercepted. Leak took the ball most of the field but Tebow finished with a hand-off to the running back for a touchdown. The score was 24-14 when Ohio State’s sweater-vest-clad coach surprised everyone by going for it on fourth and one from his own 29. I’ve seen this happen in too many NFL games. It’s fourth and less than a yard. The best move is to try the QB sneak. The Patriots run it like a charm. Instead the Buckeyes ran a slow-developing handoff, allowing Florida’s fast defensive line time to hit the running back before he had a chance. The failure didn’t demoralize the Ohio State D, which held firm and only gave up a field goal. What completely deflated the squad was a Smith fumble on the ensuing drive. The score was 34-14 at halftime.

“I have a halftime show for you,” Nadine said.

I pressed pause. The halftime show in Glendale, Arizona, home of the Tostitos BCS Championship game, was long and lame. I did note that the Ohio State band played the love theme from Titanic. I had to write that one down.

“Why are we watching the second half if it’s a blowout?” Nadine asked.

“We’re not changing the channel,” I said.

“That’s not a good answer to why are we watching the second half if it’s a blowout?”

“I Love New York doesn’t come out until Wednesday,” I replied. “I Love New York” was the title of a reality show. Flava Flav, rapper of Public Enemy fame, had completed two seasons of a dating show where he was the “prize”. Yes, he was the guy who wore a clock around his neck. It’s comedy genius to keep doing it when you’re in your 40s. He gave each of his potential betrothed a fake name, and one woman was called New York. She was certifiably insane, and twice got the boot from Flav on the final episode. She was going to get her own show, which would allow her to choose from a pool of 15 men. What did people do before a million TV channels?

“You know that Ohio State doesn’t have a chance.”

“That’s not the point. This is Troy Smith’s final college game. His future as a professional quarterback starts tonight. If there’s any chance of them making a rally, I have to watch. If Florida does pull this off, it’s going to be one of the greatest bowl upsets in history. A few years ago Ohio State came into the title game in the opposite role and upset Miami. Turning the tables, in the same state no less, would be amazing.”

“Why don’t you just write that down and call it a blog?”

“I might.”

“You don’t care about that crap. This game’s just reminding you that football season is almost over.”

“It is at that,” I reached for another Newcastle. “Maybe I should just stop by Krispy Kreme tomorrow morning.”

“I can’t believe you’re obsessing over a breakfast menu.”

“It’s the most important meal of the day.”

Ohio State had favorable field position for the entire third quarter. They couldn’t get beyond the Florida 40-yard-line. Florida struggled as well, but midway through the fourth quarter they sustained a game-killing drive. Tim Tebow scored the touchdown.

“Oscar’s a freaking genius. This game blows,” Nadine muttered.

“I thought you were cheering for Florida.”

“They won the game when Ohio State didn’t get that fourth and one. You know it. I know it. The stupid announcers know it. Sometimes you just have to move on.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Life moves on whether you’re ready or not.”

I paused the TV. It was time for another set of commercials.

“Are you saying that you’re not ready?” she asked.

“I’m going to stay up all night. Wanna help?”

Nadine smiled. “Staying up all night is what I do. Why exactly do you want to do this?”

“No reason.”

“Baloney.”

“When you have a job, you give up your time in exchange for money. A company can tell you what to do when you’re on their time.”

She pressed two fingers against my lips. They smelled like hot sauce.

“A rebel, you’re not. Think about it. What are you going to prove by going to work drunk?”

“I’ll sober up by then,” I said after leaning back.

“When you don’t sleep, it’s no different than being drunk.”

“Then you can drive me to work.”

“You haven’t given me the why yet.”

“I only have to be there for six hours, including lunch.”

“Don’t sell, just tell me why.”

“Because I work at a CPA firm and I’m not a CPA. Because ordering pens and notebooks is not why I went to college. Because I’m getting a little too good at fixing a paper jam. Because I’m convinced that one of the partners created a gluten allergy just so my ordering of lunch has to be a production.”

“See, was that so hard?”

“I feel like I had to ask for permission.”

“The only way you’re going to stay up all night is with my help.”

“I’ll take that action,” I said, offering my hand. She took it.

“So what are we going to do? Roast marshmallows? Tell ghost stories?”

“We could tell stories.”

I thought about the last time I stayed up all night. It was the evening that Nadine and I went out on our first and only date. She came over the following morning to give me her most emphatic answer to my unspoken question. After that I slept for ten hours. This time, I was going straight to work.

We watched the rest of the game, or more accurately the game unfolded on the TV while we more or less made out.

“Don’t you wish that we met in our teens?” Nadine said, taking my cue to rest.

“Why do you think that?”

“When you’re a teenager, sex and love get so tangled up that you forget to have fun with it. I think we’d have fun without all of the drama.”

“But teenage love is all about drama.”

“When you’re nineteen, you can drink and do just about anything in Windsor.”

“Windsor?”

“Just across the border in Canada. I thought you were worldly. I went with some of my friends a few days after my nineteenth birthday. I kissed a boy in a bar and drank about ten Long Island Iced Teas.

“If that boy had been you, it would have been a whole lot better.”

“I would have stopped you at five. Then I would have taken you back to my place.”

“You had a place in Windsor?”

“Any 19-year-old would consider a Holiday Inn to be a pretty sweet place for a hook-up.”

“As long as the sheets were clean. I had a boyfriend then.”

“Did he find out about the kiss?”

“When it’s your first time, and you’re that young, I mean being in love and doing it is nice and all, but when you’re just plain hot for each other, that might be better.” Nadine smiled at the thought. She stopped smiling when she saw my goofy grin.

“We weren’t official yet. That happened in January.”

“Where was he?”

“Orlando.”

“Citrus Bowl?”

“That sounds familiar.”

“I’ll have to look that one up later.”

“Why does it matter who played in a bowl game six years ago?”

“It doesn’t matter. I still want to know.”

“Where’d you go to high school?” Nadine asked, clearly in the mood to shift the conversation away from football. I have no idea why.

“Kickapoo High School in Springfield, Missouri.”

“Let me guess. You haven’t been back since graduation.”

“Since twelve days after graduation. To save you the question, I’ve made peace with Springfield, Missouri. For high school, it was fine.”

“Where you the class clown?”

“I got by.”

“Where’d you go to college?”

“Wake Forest.”

“That’s a long way to go for college.”

“If the University of Alaska had given me a scholarship, I would have gone there.”

“I didn’t go too far. I think like 40 kids from my high school class went to Michigan.”

“Were you close with many of them?”

“Some, but my best friend didn’t go.”

“Why not?”

“Got pregnant. About, I don’t know, nine months after a doctor told her that she couldn’t get pregnant. Her mom let her have the kid, but only if she stayed in school. She graduated, barely, the summer after I did.”

“That couldn’t have been easy to do.”

“No shit. What made it even more amazing is gave birth to Lynn, her second child, six days after the ceremony.”

“Wow.”

“I know. The first dad split. I mean, his family actually moved him to Toledo. Tammy didn’t mind. She knew this was a solo project. She met Steve a year later, and as soon as he proved his diaper-changing skills it was a done deal. They got married the day after she graduated. They had two more after that.”

“Four kids? Yikes.”

“I know. I lost track with just about everyone else, but I still talk to Tammy pretty often.” Her wistful smile faded quickly. “Who’s your best friend?”

“Probably Tom.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Three years, give or take.”

“Do you have a scortched-earth mentality when dealing with friends?”

“When I move, I generally leave all that behind.”

“I didn’t mean to be harsh.”

“I don’t really go back and examine what went wrong with friendships in the past.”

“Most of them just fade away.”

“OK, it’s your turn.”

“My turn for what?”

“To ask me about anything.”

“Anything?”

“Yes.”

“What have you done that you’re most guilty about?” I asked. I was ready for some high-school drama, or at least a good college story.

She sighed. My questions didn’t seem too personal, but you never know. “I killed a man in Reno just to watch him die.”

“Excuse me?” I asked. My mouth must have opened wide enough to fit my universal remote.

“In November I had sex with Jack.”

Now things were getting interesting. “That would be the recently engaged Jack.”

“The still engaged Jack.”

I preferred to think of him as Radiology guy. “How did this happen?”

“We started talking when you and I weren’t exactly talking. I missed the male point of view. We’d usually just meet in the cafeteria or see each other in passing. One night we went out to dinner.”

“Did he invite you?”

“No, he told me that he was going for sushi, and I invited myself.”

“Intriguing.”

“I didn’t eat sushi, if you were curious.”

“I wasn’t curious about that.”

“Don’t be an ass about this. We ate, we talked, and his place was close, too close. We didn’t talk, we just did the deed. It happened again a few times over the next couple of weeks. Usually I’d go after we were done, but one night he wanted me to stay. All he was going to do was fall asleep, and for me it was the middle of the day, so to speak, so I started to get dressed. He grabbed me and told me that he was going to dump Susan. He needed me. I told him that I only needed him for sex, and it was more of a want when you really narrowed it down.

“He just stared at me like I was an alien. It got uncomfortable real quick, so I left. He didn’t try to stop me.”

“Nadine,” I said, patting her on the shoulder. “Do you feel bad about it?”

“I’m a shit,” she said. “I knew when I went back to his place that we were going to fuck, and that’s all I wanted. He was engaged and I didn’t care. I think I even enjoyed it a little bit that he said he was going to dump his fiancé. It scared me to be so callous.”

“If you feel guilty, you’re pretty bad at callous.”

“I guess so,” she replied, offering a slight smile. “You weren’t there for me, and it was really hard.”

“I know,” I replied.

“So, when we were on our break or whatever it was called, did you…?”

I nodded.

“Of course you did. I spilled my guts; now it’s your turn.”

“If you want to know, Tom I went out the second weekend of October. Every once in a while we like to do something called Buckhead Destruction night.”

“Sounds intriguing.”

“We park at a bar called Modern Drunkard. I used to hang out there a lot so the owners don’t care if I park there, as long as we either start or end our evening there. We had a couple beers there but it was too early.”

“Is there a strategy to Buckhead Destruction night?”

“Not really. We try to stick to beer since it is a long night. We’ll flirt and talk and maybe get a phone number but we don’t try to hook up too early.”

“You’re pretty sure of yourself when it comes to meeting someone.”

“You could also call it Operation Fish in a Barrel. Tom had just ended a relationship, so it was all for him.”

“Tom doesn’t seem like the go-steady type.”

“Not generally, but he’ll surprise you. He bought a couple of drinks for women but it didn’t go past that. I caught someone’s eye and as fate had it, her friend was compatible with Tom.”

“Do you even talk?”

“It’s hard sometimes, but it can be done. We went back to Modern Drunkard, where it was a little quieter, to finish up the night. Tom was a little overeager, so he got a cab back to my place, where his car was. I went with Beth.”

“Should I start humming some porn music now?”

“We didn’t have sex. I got her undressed, and she was really drunk so I just left.”

“Just like that.”

“There are times when I don’t care if someone’s drunk or not. If I’m lucid enough, I usually come to the conclusion that I could be a dozen other guys and it wouldn’t matter. That’s when I have the option to retreat.”

“So you’re a gentleman when it suits you.”

“It does. Beth called me a few days later and we went on a few dates.”

“She remembered you.”

“I put my number in her cell phone. Let someone find you if they really want to, I always say.”

“And these were romantic dates?”

“We never left her apartment. After the third time I think we came to a mutual understanding.”

“No loose ends.”

“It doesn’t always have to be complicated.”

“I’ve never really done that.”

“What’s that?”

“Picked someone up in a bar.”

“It usually works the other way around.”

“I don’t think I could do it. How comfortable do you feel with someone you’ve known for a couple of hours?”

“It only has to be comfortable enough.”

“I’ve got an idea. I’ll go to a bar one night. You come in and pick me up.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“No, you don’t get it. We’re role-playing. I’ll pretend to be a sassy girl looking for a hook up and you’ll be the guy with a drawer full of pick-up lines. We can make up fake jobs and everything.”

“Costumes?”

“I don’t want to make this a high-budget affair. It takes a lot of guts to come up to a stranger in a bar and start chatting. I think I’d like to try it, but only with someone I know.”

“Remember when I called you mental earlier?”

“Sure.”

“Double that. If you know the other person, it defeats the person of meeting someone in the bar.”

“I’m trying to share that I am comfortable enough with you that you can pick me up in a bar anytime.”

“That’s good to know, I guess.”

“Is it your turn to ask me something, or the other way around? I kind of lost track.”

“It’s my turn.”

“How do you know for sure?”

“I know.” I paused. “Want to go to Asheville with me?”

“Asheville?”
“It’s in North Carolina. I can get a cabin for a week. I know a guy.”

“You know lots of people.”

“It’s very simple. You say yes or no.”

“Yes.”

“Good.” I theatrically yawned. “Want to join me in the bedroom?”

“No, I still have Beth on the brain. If you need a few minutes alone, I can turn up the TV volume.”

I grimaced. Yeah, it was going to be one of those evenings. I reached for the laptop and decided better of it. Nadine really didn’t care. She already was working through the TiVo list.

As I closed the bedroom door, she yelled out “Say my name when you finish!”

Women.