During our last week at basic we were given lessons in how to behave as an officer and a gentleman. It was like the army, after spending thousands of dollars and five weeks turning us into bloodthirsty killers, had suddenly decided that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to turn us loose on the general public again. We were taken down to the officer’s club and shown around (during off hours, of course!) and given other instruction as well. Much of this was done by the lieutenant Harlan and I had captured, so he and I slipped to the back for those lessons, and hunkered down out of sight. I don’t know whether this stuff was the lieutenant’s regular job, or penance for being caught.
When it was finally time to go, it was with both a profound sense of relief, and also the sense I was going to miss a new friend. Harlan was heading back to Memphis on a different flight. We said that we would keep an eye out for each other in the service, and you never knew but we would run across each other. It couldn’t be any crazier than our fun in the bushes with the Orange Army!
Here’s the scary part — these were the same kids that 16 years later, by now commanding battalions, went through the fourth largest army in the world like so much shit through a goose! I guess they learned a little more!
We had another long bus ride back to Raleigh, but this time nobody was doing pushups. At the airport I hooked up with Joe and Bruno again, the first chance I’d had to see them all summer. The flight back to Albany was just as long, but I slept through the entire thing, including the takeoffs, landings, and terminal waits. I was short on about four weeks worth of sleep. When we got into Albany we got a cab to take us over to Kegs. My car was parked in back, and looked to be in good shape. I didn’t know if Marty had driven it anywhere, but I really didn’t care, either. It just felt good to be back among civilians.
Once I was back, I called Marilyn and she drove over to see me. We spent a very enjoyable afternoon and evening at Kegs before she went home the next morning. The plan was that Friday she would come back, packed and ready to travel, and we would spend a couple of days staying with Tusker and Tessa before heading off to Ocean City again. I definitely wanted to see her in that bikini and crocheted one piece I had bought her before.
Marilyn was still a little nervous about hanging out at the biker bar Tusker and Tessa worked at, but since we had survived the first time, she wasn’t as nervous as the last time. I was feeling young and dumb and full of come like a good soldier should be, so it didn’t bother me at all. We got into town about eight in the evening, since we had started late and stopped for dinner before arriving. We parked out back and walked around, getting several hard stares, but nobody stopped us from going in. I didn’t yell out any smart-ass remarks this time, and we just bellied up to the bar.
It was smoky, not well lit, a bit dirty, and Steppenwolf’s Born To Be Wild was blaring from the speakers. If the brothers at Kegs wanted to scare the pants off the pledges, make them come in here for an autograph! This place was a hell of a lot scarier than the Hot Spot! What a great dive!
Tessa was working the beer tap, filling a pitcher, when she noticed us. She gave us a big smile and yelled, “Tusker, guess who finally showed!” Tusker came around the bar from the other end and grabbed me in a bear hug, which I returned.
“You made it!” he yelled over the racket.
“Wouldn’t miss this place for the world! Say hello to Marilyn! You met her last year, remember?”
Tusker gave Marilyn a big hug as well, and then went around the bar and set us up with a couple of beers. Marilyn and I sat at the bar for a few hours gabbing with both Tusker and Tessa as they became free, drinking our beers and eating peanuts off the bowl on the bar. We were a bit young for the crowd, but not by much, and we got more notice from my short hair and khakis than anything else. I don’t want to say we looked preppy, but we sure wouldn’t pass for bikers. A couple of guys looked like they wanted to start something, but Tusker warned them off, saying that we were friends from school, and nobody wanted to mess with Tusker. I was never worried in any case.
The bar closed eventually, and we followed Tusker and Tessa home. They had a nice little one bedroom apartment in Towson off of Joppa Road, with a convertible couch in the living room. It was well after midnight, so we simply sacked out and slept until late morning.
The next day, Saturday, we all just hung out in the apartment and talked about what we had been doing in the last year. This was the first time that my friends had really had a chance to sit and talk with Marilyn. Needless to say they decided to embarrass me by pulling out our high school yearbook. I returned the favor and found the pictures of Tusker and Tessa, and managed to get a few laughs out of that. The nice thing about the yearbook is that it actually comes out a couple of weeks before graduation, so nothing was in there about me as valedictorian, other than a listing of proposed speakers somewhere in the back. No pictures, no copies of speeches, no reminders of the idiot speech I made way back when. What a presumptuous asshole I had been! In fact, there were very few pictures of me at all, since I spent so much time over at Towson State. There were a lot more pictures of Tusker, since he was far more flamboyant than either Tessa or me, especially considering his long red hair and large build.
I asked Tessa if she was figuring to graduate from college in two years, and she said yes. “Tusker’s going to take a little longer, but he got started late, and only goes part time.”
I looked over at my old friend in surprise. “You’re going to college?!”
“Don’t look so surprised! You’re the one who said I should.”
I nodded in agreement. That was true. A year ago we had been talking and I had urged him to at least go part time to community college. “And you listened to me? Nobody listens to me!”
“Yeah, yeah. I don’t want to hear it. I’m taking a couple of classes every semester over at Essex, in business.”
I blinked at that. “No shit!? Good for you! What’s with business? What are you planning on doing?”
He glanced over at Tessa, and then turned back. “Remember how I told you about starting a business of our own. We still want to.”
“I remember you saying that!” agreed Marilyn. “Did you want a bar of your own?”
Tusker sort of shrugged and Tessa gave a frown. “Actually, I would really love to have a Harley dealership, but that’s just crazy. I’ll never have the money to start something like that.”
I leaned back and thought about that for a minute. “Why not?”
“I don’t have that kind of cash! Do you have any idea how much money gets tied up in a place like that? Thousands — no, millions! Where would we ever find that kind of money?”
“Tusker, nobody has that kind of cash. You borrow it from a bank,” I told him.
“Who the hell is going to loan me that kind of money? Christ, I’m just a bartender at a biker bar!”
“And that’s all you’ll ever be with that kind of attitude!”
“Fuck you, Buckman!”
I laughed and leaned back on the couch. “Do you really want that dealership? I mean really, really, bust-your-ass-hard-work-want that dealership?”
He stared at me for a moment and then looked over at Tessa. “Are you serious?”
“No, are you serious?”
“Okay, yeah, I want it.”
“Then I know how to help you,” I told him.
“How?”
“Go get a piece of paper and a marker,” I ordered him.
“What for?”
“Do you want it or not?”
“Shit!” Tusker shook his head and stood up. He rummaged around in the kitchen for a couple of minutes, while Tessa and Marilyn eyed me curiously and asked each other what I was up to. Eventually Tusker returned with some lined paper and a black Magic Marker. “Yeah?”