He stopped in front of the school, where students were being picked up or gathering in groups and talking. He called Alessio. It rang and rang before going to voicemail, the guy’s voice asking for a message to be left after the tone. Bobby hung up and scanned the crowd.
“Bobby,” Alessio said from behind, and Bobby felt a tug on his backpack. Alessio continued speaking as Bobby turned to face him. “I can go with you, but I need to be home by 5:30.”
Grinning, Bobby said, “That’s plenty of time.”
Bobby ordered an oOber black, setting his destination for Backstage Collectibles. The navy Mercedes entered the line of waiting parents ten minutes later. Alessio caught sight of the vehicle first, extending a finger. “There,” Alessio said. “I think that’s it.”
They hurried for the car, and Bobby opened the passenger door. “Alex?” Bobby asked, holding up his phone.
Alex grunted. “I didn’t pay seventy grand for this baby, so I could pick kids up from school,” he grumbled, scratching his chin. “Yeah, that’s me.”
Alessio touched the backdoor handle, uncertain. Bobby gave him a nod. “Front or back seat?” Bobby asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” Alex said, shaking his head. “You two are potty trained, right?”
Bobby slid into the leather seat. It was soft and contoured, almost hugging him like a good pillow. He heard Alessio do likewise, sitting directly behind Bobby. “This isn’t a preschool,” Bobby replied. “We’re eighteen.”
Grunting his response, Alex steered out of line, speeding ahead of the stopped cars and cut in front of someone just before the stop sign. The maneuver caused other drivers to blare their horns. “Shut up,” Alex said and turned the radio on, raising the volume.
The drive didn’t take long, and Alex pulled into a parking place in front of the store, shutting off the music. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, gentleman,” the man said. “If you would kindly exit the vehicle, and leave a pleasant review, I would be eternally grateful.”
Alessio snickered, surely scoffing back there. Alex’s attitude hadn’t changed; he still sounded sulky and irritated. “Can you wait for us?” Bobby asked, opening the door. “We need to get home after this.”
“I’m not going to sit around while you guys’ sniff video game controllers,” Alex replied, flicking his fingers toward Backstage Collectibles. “I have people to haul and money to make, kid.”
The ride cost Bobby $60, and he had grown fond of the seats during the drive. “What if I pay you twenty to wait?” Bobby asked. “And leave good reviews.”
Alex grunted and checked his watch. “Twenty for every ten minutes you spend in there,” he said, shutting off the car.
“Deal,” Bobby said and got out, taking his backpack with, and Alex followed them inside. “You don’t have to look after us.”
“Ha,” Alex barked, scrutinizing the pair of boys. “You two look like a couple trolls. I know how it works, ask me to wait while you sneak out the back.” He shook his head. “I wasn’t born yesterday.”
Shrugging, Bobby walked to the counter, getting an employee’s attention. The walls were covered in movie posters and signed guitars. “Do you have any Tooler Swaft items?” Bobby asked, glancing inside the glass display case in front of him. “Like signed stuff? Anything from the show ‘friends’?”
The woman was pudgy, with short hair, dyed yellow. “Yes, yes, and yes,” she replied.
After the lady laid some stuff out, Bobby turned to Alessio. “What do you think Mrs. Anderson would like best?” he asked. There were signed albums and records, along with lanyards with passes inside and shirts. An orange jacket. “Her friend told me she loves the singer.”
Alessio shrugged. “This looks good,” he said, hovering his finger over the record. It was colorful and flashy.
“That’s ten minutes,” Alex butted in, showing Bobby his watch.
“Alright,” Bobby said to Alex before turning to the woman. “I’ll take that, this lanyard, and the friends frame.” He pointed at the framed, sleeveless shirt that one of the female characters had worn on the show. There was a picture of the scene inside, and Bobby didn’t recognize the woman.
The employee bit her lip. “The frame is $4,300,” she said apologetically.
Bobby’s jaw dropped. “Are you fucking serious?”
Bobby looked at Alessio. “What do you think?” he asked. “She has to take it easy on us if we gift her that, especially if you write a nice note.”
“Hmm,” Alessio muttered. “I don’t think she’ll accept it. It’s too expensive.”
Bobby clicked his tongue and pulled out his phone. He dialed Kate. “Hi, Bobby, we just landed,” she answered. “Need some womanly advice?”
“Kind of,” he said, stepping away from the counter. “I’m looking at a shirt used in that show you mentioned, its expensive though. Do you think she’ll accept something like that from me?”
“Oh, you are quite the doll, Bobby,” she said. “Which character wore it?”
Bobby looked at the employee. “Who wore the shirt?” he asked.
“Phoebe.”
“Someone named Phoebe,” Bobby said into the phone.
Kate’s tinkling laughter emanated from his phone. “Sweetness, if you buy her that, she might just kidnap you and keep you all to herself,” she replied mirthfully.
“What do I say when she asks where I got the money for it?” he asked. “I don’t want her calling up my mom or anything.”
“How much is it?” Kate asked.
“$4,300,” he said hesitantly.
Kate coughed and choked. Bobby heard Megan’s voice in the background. “Bobby, what will your mother say when that money goes missing?” she rasped.
Bobby winced as a customer walked into the store, bell chiming. He racked his brain for something to say. “I made the money,” he started, deciding to trust her. Anyone who didn’t care that their daughter was sending nudes had to be understanding in other areas. “It’s an online thing, reposting videos with ads, and my mom doesn’t know about it.”
“You spent your own money on Megan’s dress and shoes?” she asked, her voice soft, almost a purr. “Money you earned?”
“Well, yeah,” he said.
“Ooh, I could smother you in smooches, dolly,” Kate told him. “If you want to spend that much on Trish, I’ll talk to her and put in a good word for you.”
“I think I will, thank you,” Bobby said, grinning. “If she doesn’t call my mom, I’ll owe you one. Do you mind mentioning a classmate of mine named Alessio? He suffers her wrath too, and he’s a literal genius.”
“Will do, daffodil,” Kate said, “and I’m going to hold you to that promise. I’ll speak to her tonight, ta ta, dear.”
Bobby sighed, hoping Mrs. Anderson wouldn’t contact his mother. Walking back to the display, Bobby said, “I’ll take the stuff I mentioned, including the frame.”
The total was just over $6,000, and the woman wrapped the rigid items in gift paper, putting the lanyard in a nice bag with tissue paper. After dropping Alessio off, Bobby texted him, asking him to type out a nice letter to go with the more expensive item.
When Alex pulled up to Bobby’s house, he said, “Do you need a bodyguard or something? Spending that much money can draw unwanted attention.”
Bobby thought about it, the spying cheerleaders coming to mind. The group of dudes near the atm. He looked Alex up and down; the guy was much bigger than him, muscular. “Would you drive me around too?” he asked, patting the dash.
Alex nodded. “That goes without saying,” he said. “Listen, let’s do a trial run for a week. Call it five hundred bucks and see how you like it. That’s about half as much as I make per week after taxes. I can do my normal routes while you’re in school and take you anywhere when you get out.”
There was no way he could afford that long term, unless he really started fucking. The idea of a chauffeur appealed to him though, but he did want Dubois to give him rides. He idly shook his head; Alex could always pick him up at home after his teacher dropped him off. “Alright, but you have to drop me off at school in the mornings too,” Bobby said, extending his hand. “Deal?”
Alex shook his hand. “Deal, I’ll even teach you how to spit game.”
Bobby chuckled. “Can you pick me up early tomorrow?” he asked. “At six?”
*
During dinner, his mom was all smiles. She must have gotten a good price for the gold coins, but he didn’t say anything. Mom had been happy, until Brenda opened her mouth.
“I asked some old friends about your girlfriend, Bobby,” Brenda said, smirking. “One might say she gets around.” She had on a tight, rainbow tube top and hoop earrings.
Amanda and his mother sat on either side of him, the former munching a dinner roll. Jules was in her room, eating by herself. “I heard similar about you,” Bobby said.
Brenda laughed, her braless tits jiggling. “You’re going to need a doctor when that one is done with you,” she retorted and sighed dramatically. “Money can’t buy class.”
“Bitch, you dress like a homeless hooker and stink like one too,” Bobby said, letting go of his fork, it clattered against his near empty plate. “Go wipe your ass better, I can smell your shit from here.”
Brenda shot to her feet, pointing a butter knife at him. “I’ll stuff your ugly face in a dirty toilet loser, try me!” she shouted. Her phone was tucked into the waist of her white skirt, and her belly button tassel spun madly.
Bobby stood. “Fuck you!”
His mom slammed her palms down on the table. “Enough!” his mother yelled. Amanda looked like she was about to start laughing, darting her eyes back and forth between Bobby and Brenda like she was watching a table tennis match; her lips were fully puckered in restrained amusement. “I am sick and tired of your constant bickering.”
“It isn’t my fault that a slut took a liking to him,” Brenda said, snorting. “If he wasn’t such a freak, he wouldn’t have to settle for slime like her.”
His mom slid her chair back with a screech. “Say one more word, Brenda, and I’ll take your damn phone away,” Sharon hissed.
Brenda laughed humorlessly and rocked her head from side to side, flapping her lips mockingly. “Oh please, you didn’t pay for it,” she said, scowling. “Maybe if you had listened to dad, we wouldn’t be living in this shithole like roaches. I’m not some child you get to order around anymore.”
Bobby seethed. “Fuck you, everything you’re wearing is Hector’s jizz money,” he shouted. “Go slurp his sack for another piercing!”
Brenda snatched her near empty glass of water and hurled the liquid at him. Most of it missed the target, splashing his plate and shoe as Bobby moved away. “At least I’m not an std riddled whore,” she retorted, slamming the glass down.
Gripping the back of his chair, Bobby said, “You sure as fuck look like one. If not for Hecky, you’d be getting passed around on a porno set.” From beside him, Amanda squeaked and tried to stifle her laughter with a hand.
Brenda sneered at Amanda. “Keep laughing, it won’t be funny when you’re old and alone, with…”
Mom cut her off with a gesture, closing in on her daughter with a lengthy stride. She lifted her thumb and index finger, almost touching the two. “I’m this close to kicking you out for good,” Mom said coldly, her jaw clenched. “I’m hoping that you finish that goddamn sentence so I can be rid of you tonight. I may not have paid for your phone, but I do pay all the bills around here, spending most of my money on food, and you have never lifted so much as a finger to help me. Either keep your mouth shut and show me some respect or say goodbye to the cushy lifestyle I allow you to live.”
Her phone threat used to work, even as recently as a few weeks prior. Fucking Brenda, he thought and silently cheered mom on.
Brenda opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it; it was probably the fury in mom’s eyes. Hector doesn’t want your ass at his place, Bobby thought. Brenda turned, her footsteps growing softer as she got farther away, until they became inaudible. A few breaths later, and she was slamming her door. Once. Twice. A third time. Silence followed.
“You should force her to move in with Hecky,” Bobby said and dried his chair off with a napkin before sitting back down. His pasta was doused in water.
Amanda shuddered with laughter. “Hecky, Hecky, give me a pecky,” she mocked in a girlish tone.
His mother finally sighed and walked over to him. “I’m sorry, hun,” she said, pressing his cheek into her slim stomach. Ran her fingers through his hair. “That girl is a menace.”
Amanda continued to make fun of Brenda. Adding some base to her voice, she chanted, “Hecky, Hecky, come and write me a checky.”
“Hush, Amanda,” mom said softly, her belly taut against Bobby’s jaw. “You shouldn’t have said those things, Bobby.”