Page 9 of Foolish Games

“Your ass isn’t even old enough to buy beer,” Billy points out.

“Fuck you,” Tommy says. “My dad’s a cop. I can do whatever I want.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Maddox rumbles.

“You think he was really nailing Scarlet’s friend?” I ask, though I already know the answer.

“Hell, yeah,” Tommy says. “I’d do her too. Well, maybe not now, but I would have before Coach railed her. I think Billy nabbed her V-card.”

“Hell, yeah, I did,” Billy crows, a swagger in his step. “Wonder if Coach knows he got my sloppy seconds.”

“Dude, she’s like half his age, he don’t care,” I say.

“He probably cares now that he got fired,” Maddox says.

“Nah,” Tommy says. “I bet it was worth it to nail a seventeen-year-old.”

“Legal in Arkansas,” Robert says.

“I hope he can’t get hired anywhere else,” Maddox grumbles, kicking a piece of gravel across the wet pavement in the lot. “Fucking piece of shit. This is our senior year, and we have to start all over with a new coach.”

“Coach Carr’s got credentials,” I admit. “Maybe he won’t be so bad. He’s a hard-ass, but maybe it’ll get us a few more Ws.”

“Maybe,” Maddox concedes before turning and hurrying off to the shitty old El Camino he shares with his brother.

“Come on,” Robert says to me. “You got books and shit. I’ll swing by your place on the way home.”

“Your sister gonna be riding with us?”

“No,” he says, scowling at me.

I give him an apologetic grin. “Just checking.”

When we reach Robert’s Lamborghini, I hurry to jump in without letting the downpour ruin the seats.

“This is the sweetest fucking ride,” I say, trying not to pop a boner just being in a car this nice. The inside smells like a real leather wallet packed with nothing but hundreds. “I’ll never get used to riding with you.”

“She’s my baby,” Robert says, patting the dash fondly.

“Thanks for the lift.”

Mel took the bus, and I wouldn’t have minded walking in the rain, but I’m not turning down a ride in a fucking Lamborghini. I’ve ridden with him enough times that it shouldn’t impress me anymore, but it still does. It purrs like a kitten as Robert pulls out of the parking lot.

“Can’t have our star sidelined with pneumonia,” he says, mocking something Ms. Beech said when she handed over her umbrella, choosing to walk in the rain rather than let me do it.

“Nothing’s going to keep me off the field on Friday,” I assure him. “Scouts are coming to check me out again.”

“Good thing my sister’s gotten your grade up in English.”

“Yeah,” I say, glancing at him. “She’s a good tutor.”

We’ve been meeting for two weeks now, and somehow we’ve managed not to kill each other. Whenever the urge arises, I just aim it at her boyfriend, who’s taken to tutoring his partner at the table beside ours, probably making sure I’m not putting the moves on his girl.

I don’t blame him. I’d do the same thing if I were him. She’s way out of his league.

Robert watches me from the corner of his eye. “Just make sure you know that’s all she is. Your tutor. Nothing more.”

“Dude, I know,” I assure him. “Do you give that Chad kid this much shit?”

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