When we all met downstairs, we had almost seventy people when you included parents. I’d gotten a recommendation for a sports-bar type of place called High Velocity. It was only a few blocks from where we were. I realized this was what I needed a PA for. Kendal would have organized this whole event. We were fortunate it was a Wednesday night, or the folks at High Velocity would have had a line out the door. My dad took charge and organized it so we took over a section of the restaurant.
Mom and Dad ordered appetizers for our section of the restaurant while I walked around and talked to everyone and their parents. I was surprised when Phil joined me. When we were between tables, he asked me why I did this.
“My dad, well, I should say our dad, had Greg and I learn to talk to everyone in the room. He said that someday it would pay off in unexpected ways. It helps his business, and he also gets support when he works with the Booster Club. I’ve thought about it, and I would guess it all started with our grandad, and him being a politician,” I said and looked at the next table.
“Oh, shit,” I said under my breath.
“What’s wrong?” Phil asked.
“I’ll tell you later.”
Seated at several tables that had been pulled together were all the ladies in my life and their parents. While the girls knew I dated others, I wasn’t sure if the parents were aware. Added to the mix were Tracy, Tom and Mary Dole, and Cassidy.
“I hope you’re all on your best behavior because you’re all in the presence of a star,” I said.
“Oh, my. What’s he done now to make his ego even bigger?” Ava Davis, Brook’s mom, asked.
I just winked at her and then turned to Rita James, who gave me a hard look.
“Who’s this you have tagging along?” Rita asked, to stop me from embarrassing her.
I made a decision that I hoped my family would be okay with.
“This is Phil Prince, my half brother.”
“How did that happen?” Mrs. Pearson asked.
“I think if you do the math, and think about how babies are made, it might come to you,” I suggested.
“Oh. OH! Sorry, that was impolite of me,” she said.
“Actually, we just found out, and I couldn’t be happier to have a little brother. I might have to train him to let him out in public, but he hasn’t embarrassed me yet today.”
“Just give him some time, and he’ll do just that,” Zoe said, and then blushed when she realized she was sitting next to her dad. “But they can be such a blessing.”
“We’re talking about Rockefeller?” Phil asked, and Zoe nodded.
Phil made a funny, snorting noise that made us all laugh. Poor Roc wasn’t here to defend himself.
“Do you know something I should know?” Mrs. Pearson asked Phil.
He got a worried expression on his face.
“You opened your big mouth. You might want to tell them something about your friend,” I encouraged.
Phil turned out to be not as gullible as I’d been at his age.
“I’m not telling any stories. You should tell me one about your family,” Phil said.
I thought about it for a moment.
“I can tell you one later,” I said.
“Oh no, you don’t. Pull up a chair and tell us your story,” Cassidy ordered.
My eyebrows raised up, and Phil and I found chairs.
“Okay, I have three stories: Dead Hog in the Road, Rampaging Deer, or Road Trip. Which do you want to hear?” I asked.
“Dead Hog in the Road,” Phil said.
Everyone seemed fine with his choice, so I began to tell my story.
“My cousins live in Florida. When I was eleven, we made a road trip to go visit them. Dad had this bright idea to borrow my uncle’s pop-up camper so we could save money. As a kid, that was great because I love camping. My mom, on the other hand, was less than thrilled to be stuck in a car with two boys, and then trapped in a tiny camper. Her words; and if you don’t believe me, go ask her about the horrors of having two boys that age. She can go on for hours,” I said as I rolled my eyes.
“I can only imagine,” Mrs. Pearson said.
The more I was around her, the more I liked her.
“Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah, the dead hog. On the second day of our trip, my dad got the idea that it would be more scenic to drive along the old state roads instead of the interstate. Personally, I think he was delaying our arrival. I love my Uncle Jim, but I think he loves himself more. That was another reason for the camper: my dad needed a place to get away from my uncle’s house. Greg and I would play with our cousins, so we didn’t have to deal with him as much.”
“You’re getting off track again,” Cassidy said.
“Oh, sorry. Anyway, we got off the interstate and drove through south Georgia. Greg and Mom were in the back, sleeping, so Dad put me in charge of navigating. A sign on the roadside promised the best pecan pie in the state. It was almost lunchtime, so I figured that sounded good,” I said.
“When he said pecan pie and lunch, he meant that was what he planned to have for lunch,” Tracy said.
I smiled and nodded.
“Stop right there. We don’t need to hear about pecan pies for the next half hour,” Cassidy warned.
“We can talk about the virtues of a good pecan pie later. Did you ever try one with an oatmeal crust?” I asked.
“David,” Cassidy said.
“They need to know that, if they want to make me a pie, I’d prefer pecan,” I said, and then returned to the story. “So, I directed my dad to turn off onto a country road that led to the small town with the diner where they had my favorite pie.”
I wanted to be sure that they knew what kind of pie I liked.
“We were driving on one of those old two-lane roads that was paved on one half and dirt road on the other. You had to pay attention when you drove on the paved side, which was what we rode on into town. When we saw a tractor up ahead, we slowed down to give him time to move over so we could pass.
“My dad questioned me about the route I’d put us on, and I told him that this would be worth it. We sped back up and could see there was something in the middle of the road. When we got closer, we saw that it was a dead hog. There were already vultures hopping around on the roadside, so you knew it had been deceased for a while. Even though it was December, it was in the mid-seventies.
“Dad began to slow down, but I told him that the car would clear it, so he straddled the dead hog and drove on. When we hit the edge of town, we found an old gas station, and Dad pulled in to fill up. We were both surprised to see a sign that said ‘Full Service.’ They had the old-style pumps, and they didn’t take a credit card at them. It was nice to see some places still had customer service.
“Mom and Greg both woke up when we stopped. Greg said he had to use the restroom, and Mom wanted to know where we were. I told her about the pie I planned to have for lunch. She didn’t think much of my plan but was starting to get hungry. Then she crinkled up her nose and asked what that smell was.
“Dad and I turned back to try to figure out what she was talking about. At that moment, the gas station attendant walked out. He looked to be fresh out of high school. He asked my dad to pop the hood so he could check the fluids while he filled the gas tank. The guy then walked back and put the nozzle into the car. He bent over to look at something, and then he barfed on the trunk. You might not know this about me, but I’m a sympathetic puker. All I have to do is see someone gag, and I’m right there with them. It looked like he had the full serving of biscuits and gravy for breakfast. Dad saw me, reached across the car, opened my door, and shoved me out as I began to gag. I think he must have broken some child-abuse law; I found myself lying on the pavement.
“My mom is no-nonsense and got out of the car to see what might be wrong with the poor boy. He was backing up and pointing towards the camper. I’ll never forget the expression on my mom’s face as she covered her mouth in horror and ran for the gas station. I, of course, had to see what all the fuss was about.