Call the Shots (Swim the Fly #3)(63)

I cup a hand over my nose and start whiffing like mad. Think, Sean, think. I can’t go anywhere like this — half-nude, wearing clover boxers and a crap hat. I’ll be the laughingstock of Lower Rockville. Forget Leyna. Forget Evelyn. This would be the end of everything!

Goddamn it, why do I always listen to Coop? Why do I let him talk me into these things? I should have just canceled with Leyna like I wanted to. Gone to the mall by myself with Evelyn. Maybe even worked up the courage to end things once and for all. Forget what Valerie and Helen said about doing it somewhere private. This totally needs to happen somewhere public, where there are too many witnesses for Evelyn to go all Exorcist on me. Somewhere like the Rockville freakin’ Mall.

But noooo. This was “too much of an opportunity.” This was “too good to pass up.” This was “every guy’s dream.” I “owed it to my brethren” to take advantage of the situation.

Goddamn it! Every time. Every single freakin’ time it’s the same with Coop and his lamebrain plans. They always end in disaster. And yet he convinces me. Over and over again.

Oh, Christ, what am I going to do? What are my choices here?

And what in God’s name is that stink?

I look down at my turd-slicked palms.

Aw, man! Seriously? Did I just run my hands through my crappy hair? Son of a blaster, it’s on my face too. I feel it on my face. I wiped the bird shit on my face. How the hell did I not notice I was doing that?

“Fuuuuck!” I scream, wiping my hands all over Coop’s jacket. I yank the bomber off my body and use it to swab all the guano from my face and hair. “There! How do you like your leatherette now, buddy?” I cock my arm back and hurl the soiled jacket into the dumpster. “Screw you, Coop! Screw you and your dumbass plans straight to Hoth!”

A gust of frigid wind snaps me back to sanity. Super. I just threw away the one thing keeping me semiwarm. Now I’m down to sneakers, socks, and my stupid unlucky boxers. Brilliant. Just brilliant.

I take a deep breath, the chilly air numbing my lungs.

All right. It’s okay. I’m fine. I don’t need Coop. Or his stupid jacket. I’ll just call Matt. Explain the situation. Have him duck away from Evelyn for a few minutes, get me some clothes, and meet me back here. No problem.

I reach for my cell phone. And that’s when I realize: My cell phone was in the pocket of Coop’s jacket. Right along with my wallet.

Shittidy shit shitting shitter! I can’t believe it! Why don’t I just take off my boxers and run around the mall with my dingus flopping around and be done with it?

Come on, Sean. Gain control here. I can work this out. I’ll just climb into the dumpster and get all the crappy clothes back. Because crappy clothes are better than no clothes. Then I’ll call Matt and he’ll —

All of sudden I hear the roaring whoosh of a big truck pulling around near the loading docks. I quickly duck behind the dumpster. Looks like I’ll have to wait it out before I can go on my recovery mission. That’s okay. I can hold on for a few more minutes as they dump off whatever cargo they’re hauling. I crouch into a little ball, hugging my knees to try and keep warm.

The truck engine gets louder.

And louder.

And louder still, until finally I hear the clunk of metal on metal and see the dumpster rocking a bit, just before it starts to rise in the air.

Oh, no.

Oh, no, no, no!

The dumpster swings high in the sky and is tipped over, sending the contents — including Coop’s jacket, my clothes, my cell phone, and my wallet — rattling and clanking down into the big garbage truck.

And here’s me. Completely exposed. Squatting on the ground in my lucky clover boxers, frozen like Han Solo in carbonite.

The only ray of sunshine in this entire shit storm is that the dude operating the truck is too busy rocking out to his iPod to notice me. The hydraulics puff and wheeze as the now-empty dumpster is lowered, hitting the ground beside me with a loud hollow mocking thunk.

Now what, Sean? Now what?





I AM IN TOTAL PANIC MODE, desperately searching for something that could substitute for clothing. A cardboard box? A rolled-up carpet? A paper bag I can put over my head? Anything I could use to get me home.

But there’s nothing.

And just when I think things couldn’t possibly get any worse . . .

There are voices in the distance. Muffled, echoing, girls’ voices.

I have to hide. Anyone who walks by will see me crouched here behind this dumpster. Where? Where can I hide? I’ll never make it to the fence in time. Even if I did, I wouldn’t be able to scale it. I could dash out into the parking lot, pray that I get lucky, and hide between parked cars before anyone spots me.

But before I can take off, I hear the girls’ voices getting closer. Much closer. Like they’re just on the other side of the WAL-MART EMPLOYEES ONLY door.

Crap!

Desperately I leap up, grab the ledge of the empty dumpster, and clamber up the side, scraping the hell out of my knees as I go. I manage to drop inside just in time to hear the snick of the push bar on the door followed by girls’ laughter spilling out into the open air.

“So, what are you guys up to tonight?” One of the girls asks.

“Kyle’s parents are out of town,” another girl says. “He was supposed to have a party, but he totally pussied out.”