Time Games Page 17

  There wasn’t going to be any fooling around today with radio stations and all that nonsense, this would hopefully just be a straight shot out to Pocatello, and he’d hope for the best in terms of the timing. So as he ran toward the gazebo he visualized Utah State . . . the recruiting trip, that other quarterback guy who was with him, the downtown, the stadium, the snowcaps you could see from campus.

  The good thing about that recruiting trip, which he’d looked it up to confirm, was it took place only two weeks before Dani’s Karaoke adventure . . . so you use it as a foundation, put a little forward thinking on it, and you had a reasonable shot.

  Then as he got closer he shifted his focus specifically to the Super 8 where’d he’d stayed that night, not far from where the Salt Lakc City Express bus had dropped him off and Dani had picked him up, after he’d gone AWOL from the Utah State gig.

  He could see the guy still pursuing him, but slowing down. A guy like that seemed determined, unlikely he’d give up, but there was a slight uphill and it would take him a while.

  There was foursome of golfers getting ready to tee off about 20 yards to the right of the gazebo, but Pike wasn’t worried about them, they’d be occupied worrying about keeping their head down and their hips aligned or whatever golfers do, and he sat down right in the middle of the gazebo and closed his eyes and after a minute the all-too-familiar shake, rattle and roll and spin routine started up, and Bang, he was tripping.

  It was strange. As he we coming to, about to focus on his surroundings, whatever they might be, it was bugging him more and more that Dani and Hannamker were back there without him, and that dominated his thinking for a moment.

  He had to concede, Jack did carry himself like an older guy. And the son of a gun was bold. Look at that college girl situation . . . and after all that, with he and Pike running out of there that night, the guy has the nerve to go back and see her again.

  And . . . don’t forget about Jocelyn . . . and God knows who else.

  Despite her sometimes highly dysfunctional behavior though, Pike knew Dani well enough that she wouldn’t be into an 18-year-old guy who’d just come out of the pool and was laying next to her on a stretch-out patio chair at 10 in the morning though . . . Right?

  Would she?

  Disconcerting as this question might be, Pike figured he better pay attention to what was currently going on with him, and he looked around, and the first thing he saw was a sign that said Speed Limit 75.

  This couldn’t be good.

  He was on the shoulder of some highway and there weren’t many cars, but the ones that did pass by were flying. He was able to pick up Utah license plates on most of them, and Idaho plates on some of the others, so it wasn’t exactly like you were celebrating any success, but it did seem he was in the right part of the country.

  The problem was there were no exits in sight. No side roads, buildings, gas stations, fast food places, loose people . . . nothing. Nothing but rolling hills which felt like foothills to some larger mountain range, and it could be miles to any kind of an exit, even if you sucked it up and jogged it, and even then the exit might be only for some hot springs or monument 20 miles away. It was also surprisingly chilly, but that was the least of it.

  So Pike stuck out his thumb. He couldn’t remember doing that since Henry had picked him up that time when he’d ended up at Bellmeade High School by accident.

  This was definitely different. You had to give yourself some distance to the road so you didn’t get obliterated by a vehicle who might not be paying 100 percent attention. And also, if you got lucky and someone decided to stop and at least check you out, you hoped they didn’t cause an accident doing that either.

  Which is what almost happened after about 20 minutes, a beat-up Toyota Corrolla stopped about an eighth of mile up ahead, and to do that they had to cross from the fast lane across the slow lane onto the shoulder, nearly cutting off a semi in the process, but everyone survived and Pike hustled up to the vehicle.

  There was a guy and a girl, about his age, the girl driving and the guy with a cast on his right foot that came up to the knee.

  “Hey,” Pike said, “should I get in, or do you need to ask questions first?”

  The guy didn’t say anything but the girl laughed and said, “Well, we’re headed north, if that helps you out.”

  Pike thanked them and sat in back and he debated going through the whole pain-in-the-ass rigamaroll, asking what day it was . . . and month . . . and then year. Not to mention making sure they were actually in Utah headed toward Idaho.

  He decided for now to leave it all alone, and said to the guy, “What happened to your leg?”

  The kid wasn’t into talking much, and he mumbled, “It got messed up.”

  The girl, who by now had introduced herself as Eva, said, “He’s got strained ligaments. You can tell he’s not a happy camper.”

  The kid looked athletic enough so Pike said, “Playing ball?”

  The guy nodded. Eva said, “It hasn’t been long. Dave was . . . is . . . hoping for a big year. He was the leading scorer on our team last season, so he’s still coming to grips with it.”

  “That’s tough,” Pike said, adding on, in case they wanted to throw in a date, “when did this happen?”

  “Wednesday,” Eve said. “Against Twin.”

  “So, like what . . . the 22nd or so?”

  “Around that . . . I think Wednesday was the 25th, actually.”

  Pike was suddenly alarmed about something. Basketball season, at least in California, overlapped football slightly, but it didn’t kick off until November . . . Which meant he was probably screwed.

  “You’re saying, November 25th,” he said, trying to downplay the November part, but really needing to know now.

  “What are you talking about?” Eva said. “We’re still in October. Tomorrow’s Halloween.”

  “That’s what I meant,” Pike lied.

  “I’m not sure,” Eva said, “it seemed like you were genuinely mixed up . . . Are you sure you’re okay? . . . How long were you out there on the highway waiting?”

  “I’m good,” Pike said, and of course relieved that he apparently hadn’t screwed up the timing after all. “What threw me off for a second, where I’m from there’re no games in October.”

  “Here neither,” the guy Dave chimed in. “This was a scrimmage. Optional, which is the killer.”

  “So where are you from?” Eva said.

  “San Francisco,” Pike said, for no particular reason.

  “It was a freak play too,” Dave said, coming to life a little. “I’m on the drive, I’m crossing over to the hole, I got this, and then a stupid teammate, he tries to set a pick. From the blind side. My plant leg got pretty much wasted.”

  “That was Henley Rodgers,” Eva said. “He means well. He’s a football player, he’s awkward.”

  “So, like, what school?” Pike said, suddenly a little panicky that he still hadn’t confirmed where the heck he was.

  “Ours? Sunderberg,” Eva said.

  “Sorry, that’s where?”

  “Blackfoot,” she said. And here you went again with the weird karma. Unpredictable as it all was, things had a way of lining up.

  Pike said, “This is out of left field, but you know a Karaoke place there?”

  “Sorry, I’m not a Karaoke person,” Eva said.

  “He means Robinson’s, probably,” Dave said. “Bud, let me ask you though . . . what were you doing back there, all stranded.”

  Pike didn’t feel like having to drum up the energy and manufacture something. “I’m not sure,” he said.

  “Babe, leave him alone,” Eva said, “he doesn’t want to talk about it. Maybe his girlfriend broke up with him, or something.”

  The way she said it, the gleam in her eye that you could pick up in her voice, made Pike think if she’d break up with Dave, they could pick up where that left off.

  And at that point, naturally Pike’s radar went up and he took it a step fur
ther. Could someone like Eva be a version of Audrey . . . reincarnated in some weird way? . . . And just happening to be barrelling up I-15, with him stuck on the side of the road?

  It seemed unlikely, and Pike told himself, Here he was, reaching again. That the world didn’t revolve around him. That he needed to get past the dumb notion that he was destined to meet up with her, no matter what. I mean, come on.

  So forget all that. But the fact was, Eva was cute, and bubbly and smart, and a real welcome fresh face at the moment.

  Pike wondered if he’d ever have the guts to pull a Hannamaker, and move right in on someone and insert himself front and center into the picture and not worry about the collateral damage.

  Getting back to business though, he said, “Blackfoot then, that’s where you’re on the way to currently?”

  “No,” Eva said. “We’re going to Pokey. That okay?”

  “Oh, yeah, no worries . . . Much appreciated . . . Actually would you be able to drop me at, or even near’s fine, that Super 8 up on the hill?”

  “Now that’s funny,” she said, “‘cause Dave works a shift there. Saturday mornings. Not that actual location, the one in Blackfoot.”

  “Probably going to be adding more shifts now,” Dave said. “Since I can’t do nothing else.”

  Pike sort of felt bad for the guy, even though he was grumpy. He could relate to what he was going through, the frustration of not being able to compete. Since he was here anyhow, he almost felt like working in a little trip back to Wednesday, and interrupt that oaf from running into his leg.

  But Hey, you couldn’t do everything.

  Pike said, “I really like the place. I stayed there once.”

  “Well, since we’re on the subject,” Dave said. “I’ll go in with you. I can get you a deal.”

  “Man, thanks,” Pike said. “Every little bit helps, honestly.”

  Soon enough they were pulling in, and everything looked the same, and he followed Dave inside, and the only tiny detail to make sure of now was that it was still 2016, and Pike signed something that had the date on it and now he could fully relax, thank God.

  Not that there wasn’t work ahead of him, but a nice room, and discounted, was really going to hit the spot after last night.

  And then he’d begin worrying about Mr. Chuck.

  Back outside Eva said, “I’d ask you if have all your stuff, but I realize there was no stuff.” Looking at him for an explanation, and this time Dave said, “E, let’s give the guy a break. It is what it is.” And he reached out his hand to Pike.

  Pike was starting to like them both a little, and asked if anyone was hungry.

  Dave said, “You gotta be kidding, asking that . . . We got a party tonight though, so we’re going to try to hold out.”

  “We stopped at a Wendy’s on the way from Salt Lake,” Eva said, but neither one really convinced Pike so he said, “Well I’m starved, and I’m treating. That make any difference?”

  Dave said well . . . in that case there was a Mexican place that took good care of you, big portions and cheap. So Pike got back in the car with them and next thing they were scarfing down chips and salsa like there was no tomorrow, and waiting for the main dishes to arrive.

  “So you’re a big spender,” Eva said, enjoying a virgin Margarita.

  “Not normally,” Pike said, “but I won a few bucks off a guy, which I didn’t expect.” Dani had insisted he keep the whole 300. He argued with her, but she was adamant, so Pike went ahead and took the money, and he definitely wasn’t going to be offering any of it to Hannamaker.

  “What, you bet on something?” Dave said.

  “Yeah, it was actually could I beat him at arm-wrestling.”

  “So you arm-wrestled someone for money,” Dave said. “That’s not bad.”

  “That’s kind of unexpected,” Eva said.

  “What? That I don’t look like a big tough guy? . . . I’m not actually. The key is picking the right opponent.”

  Dave and Eva got a little kick out of that. Dave said, “Hey, my buddy’s party we’re hitting later, you should come.”

  “You really should,” Eva said, plenty of fun in her voice, and Pike was feeling guilty, now that he was liking Dave, for picturing himself with her.

  It did sound like fun though. Kids his age out here, whole different deal. No one knows you, so in a funny way you probably get more attention.

  The downside of course . . . the reason he politely declined . . . what if it kind of worked out, and you hooked up with someone back here. And it was still October now, to complicate things a little more.

  Speaking of October and all, he said, “But you got school tomorrow, right?”

  “We don’t worry about that too much, we can handle it,” Dave said.

  “Plus with it being Halloween tomorrow, you know, everything’s kind of funky at school.”

  So putting it in perspective now--tomorrow being the 31st, Dani and Chuck would be getting to know each other for the first time in a couple days.

  One way might be to sidetrack Dani’s girlfriend, so she never took her to the Karaoke place, but Pike realized he didn’t even know who the friend was and had been dumb not to ask Dani.

  Even if you did know the friend though, that might not be the cleanest course of action because you might run into Dani in the process, and all bets were off on what something like that might trigger.

  “Let me run something by you, if you don’t mind,” Pike said, realizing he’d been down this road before with Dani and Mitch and whoever else, but so what.

  “Anything,” Eva said, “this is fun. Thank you for taking us.”

  “Oh no,” Pike said, “believe me, you saved me out there . . . but okay, here’s the scoop. If you were going to stop two people from meeting each other, what would be the best way?”

  “How do you mean?” Dave said.

  “You mean like a dad, trying to keep his daughter from seeing someone?” Eva said.

  Dave said, “She brought that up, because that’s her dad.”

  Pike said, “I’m thinking more . . . you’ve got two people, that actually haven’t met yet, but you can tell it’s not going to work out.”

  “Save ‘em the trouble, then?” Dave said, amused.

  “I guess . . . in a nutshell, that’s it, yeah,” Pike said, thinking it really was that simple.

  Eva said, “Well, I suppose you could contact one of them first, and explain why they’re making a mistake.”

  “Or,” Dave said, “Give ‘em something. Some kind of prize or some shit.”

  Pike said, “You mean an incentive for not showing up . . . dang, that’s a pretty good thought, actually.”

  “People love winning stuff,” Dave said.

  “They do,” Eva said. “And it can cloud their judgment.”

  “My aunt,” Dave said, “she paints pictures. She’s never-ever sold one, as far’s I know. But sometimes she’ll win a ribbon at the fair. The ribbon probably costs a quarter, but that one thing keeps her fired up painting the rest of the year.”

  “Interesting,” Pike said. They finished their meal and he took care of the check and they went outside.

  “I’ll walk it,” he said, “it’s nice out, and I can see the lights up there, where I gotta go, it’s not that far.”

  “All right then,” Dave said.

  “You’re a mystery person,” Eva said, “so I hesitate to ask . . . but where are you going from here?”

  “From here? Arizona actually.”

  “Wow,” Dave said.

  Pike said, “That came out a little off . . . I’m going to Arizona, at least I think, at Christmas.”

  “You have some time until that, then,” Eva said.

  “You could say that, yeah,” Pike said. “But I’m thinking . . . when I do go, why don’t you guys come down?”

  “Well what’s there to do there?” Dave said.

  “I’m not sure there’s anything,” Pike said, “but we’ll figure something out.
”

  Dave said, “You’re pretty goofy. In an okay way. Give us your number, anyhow, for future reference.”

  Eva pulled out her phone and Pike gave her the number. He wondered again about the reliability of phone contact when you traveled. From his experience, your phone didn’t work when you were back somewhere and tried to call local, and it definitely didn’t work if you tried to call forward. But . . . if Dave called him, say, in January, and it was the same day in Pocatello that it was in Beacon, why wouldn’t that work?

  Eva said didn’t he want their number too? And Pike said he didn’t have a phone.

  Dave and Eva looked at each other, but didn’t say anything, and Pike said goodbye and started trekking it back to the Super 8.

  ***

  He slept with the window wide open, and it was a darn cold night but nice and toasty under the covers, and just like last time in this place he slept like a million bucks.

  He got up early and showered rearing to go, and out the window if you looked carefully there was a sliver of a snowcap you could see that wasn’t being blocked by the office building across the parking lot, and it felt like the cold energized your brain out here, and all he had to do now was figure out what to do.

  The place once again had a great breakfast spread, all on the house, and you could make your own waffles. The only issue was the coffee was very weak, so after making sure he was full he went out in search of a Starbucks to start the morning a little more caffeinated.

  Which wasn’t that easy, it turned out, and someone told him there was one in Chubbuck and one downtown inside Albertson’s, and Pike sort of knew where they both were and that seemed like way too much work, but then he saw a mom and pop kind of place, Pokey-Dokey Coffee, and ducked inside.

  The coffee was weak there too, that must be the style out here, so he didn’t fight it any more and sat down and reviewed his options.

  Robinson’s, the place in Blackfoot that Eva didn’t know about but Dave did-- that was likely your joint, since how many Karaoke bars could there be up there, where plenty of folks in this part of the country might not have even heard of the town?