Last Stop This Town (8 page)

“Songs will be sung of our exploits here today,” Pike boomed.

Noah put on his sunglasses. “All right. Let’s do this.”

“There you go,” Dylan encouraged. “Now once more with feeling.”

“New York City!” Noah screamed, with feeling.

“New York City!!!” Walker echoed.

“NEW YORK CITY!!!” the four of them screamed at the top of their lungs.

Dylan pulled out onto the street and the memory officially began.

As they cruised south down I-91 to Green Day’s “21 Guns,” Pike was smoking weed in the back seat, Walker had his window rolled down to avoid the smoke, Noah was reading through Dylan’s yearbook, and Dylan was pontificating.

“I’m just saying,” Dylan began, “the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing is just so old-fashioned. As long as there’s a steady stream of beautiful girls willing to engage in no-strings sex, what’s the point of pinning Sally Merriweather with your pledge pin?”

“Who the fuck is Sally Merriweather?” Pike interjected from the back seat. Everyone ignored him.

“Not everyone is made like you, Dylan,” Noah countered. “Some guys actually like getting to know a girl. Having a relationship.”

“Licking the kitty,” Dylan jabbed.

The guys laughed and even Noah couldn’t help but smile. Then Noah saw something noteworthy in Dylan’s yearbook. “Check this out. Libby Hoechner wrote, ‘Keep in touch.’ That’s it, just ‘keep in touch.’” Noah acted as if he was personally offended by her lack of imagination.

Walker joined in, “I’m sure you and Libby will be BFFs for years to come.”

But Dylan jumped to Libby’s defense, “Hey, Libby Hoechner gave me my first blow job,” as if that justified the no-frills message.

Then Dylan looked back at Walker for a second. “You remember your first blow job, Walker?”

Walker thought back. Of course he remembered. It was his first and only blow job and when he called the promiscuous, pill-popping Amy Waverly the next day, she had no memory of the event. Still, it was the best ten seconds of Walker’s life.

“Uh huh, I guess so,” Walker answered with trepidation.

“How’d it taste?” was the punch line Dylan delivered with impeccable comic timing. He laughed his ass off and Noah and Pike joined in.

Walker was used to being teased and took the ribbing good-naturedly.

Noah flipped to another page. “Look at this one from Karla Feeny. ‘Congrads’ with a ‘d,’ ‘I am going to miss you so much next year.’ Really? I mean, have you ever even said two words to Karla Feeny since junior high?”

“It’s just something you say,” Dylan chastised. “Stop being so critical.”

“Here’s another one. Amy Ryan wrote, ‘Remember that time at Marco’s house? You were so drunk.’” Noah laughed, “Yeah, can you be a little more specific?”

Noah opened the door with all this yearbook talk and Dylan took the opportunity to turn it back on him. “Okay, Smart Guy, so what are you going to write in my yearbook?”

“I don’t know. But we’re best friends. I want to write something special.”

“Wow, that was really gay,” Dylan teased. “Seriously, you don’t want to wait until college to come out of the closet?”

“Shut up,” Noah shot back with a smile.

“Come here,” Dylan apologized and facetiously leaned in to kiss him. Noah pushed him away. The car swerved slightly and Dylan returned to the wheel with a laugh.

Then Pike saw something. “Check it out. Eight o’clock.” It was a car full of hot girls in bikinis passing them on their left in a VW Bug convertible. Like a cheetah spotting a car full of gazelles, Dylan immediately sped up to match their highway speed. He rolled down his window and yelled to be heard over the wind, “Where you girls headed?”

A cute girl with long blonde hair and a pink bikini yelled back from the passenger seat, “Old Lyme!”

Dylan kept one eye on the road and the other eye on this girl’s ample cleavage. He pouted, “No, come with us! We’re heading into the city!”

“Sorry!” she laughed.

Dylan loved flirting, but in times like this you really just have to get to the point. “At least show us your tits!”

Walker gasped. “Dylan!”

“Shh! Shh!” Dylan cautioned. “I think they’re going to do it.”

And sure enough, the girl appeared to be discussing the idea with her friends.

Dylan sensed they were on the fence so he pushed them in the right direction with, “Come on! You know you want to!” Then he flashed them his million-dollar smile.

Then… the four girls lifted their bikini tops and flashed their tits.

The guys couldn’t believe it. They were in awe, giggling like little boys. And the girls were laughing, too, because, as savvy men know, good girls love being bad.

Then, as if this weren’t a big enough victory, Dylan shouted across the asphalt, “Can my friend put his face in your tits?”

The girl looked at him like he was crazy, but crazy was just what she was in the mood for.

Dylan inched his car closer to the Bug without hitting it.

And even Walker, sitting behind Dylan, didn’t need any further prodding on this one. He rolled his window down and stuck his head out.

The cars were close enough now that the blonde girl no longer in a pink bikini grabbed Walker’s head and kissed him. Then she forced his head down into her tits and Walker got a mouth full. All this at sixty-five miles an hour.

Suddenly,
honk
!

Dylan swerved right and Walker fell back into the Cube. They looked behind them to see…
a school bus
, filled with horny middle-school boys with their noses pressed up against the windows.

The guys laughed their asses off. The girls quickly pulled their tops back on and sped off.

Dylan called after them, “Aw, come on! Where are you going?” But the fun was over, so Dylan honked his horn in appreciation as the girls disappeared down the highway.

Dylan saw Walker’s face in the rear view mirror. He was smiling ear to ear. “That was awesome,” he beamed.

And Dylan, ever the good friend, made sure this was a teaching moment: “You see? A little initiative goes a long way.”

The guys approached New Haven and took the exit onto 95 South. By now they were eating McDonald’s, listening to Pike’s eclectic iMix (currently playing: Daft Punk’s “Digital Love”), and shooting the shit.

Soon-to-be Ivy Leaguer Noah asked Dylan, “Did you get your freshman orientation guide from UConn yet?”

Dylan uncharacteristically avoided eye contact and just muttered, “Uh, no, not yet.” Clearly he wasn’t ready to talk about his college plans just yet.

Pike bit into his Big Mac. “University of the Pacific, my friends. Miles of sand, hot girls in bikinis as far as the eye can see.”

Walker was skeptical. “Yeah, I’m sure they have a great record getting people into law school.”

“Maybe not,” Pike conceded, “but they have a great record getting guys into pussy.” He reached forward and high-fived Dylan who, without looking, had instinctively turned his hand to meet Pike’s.

Pike grew philosophical. “We’ve all been stuck here in West Hartford our whole lives,” his tirade began. “But instead of making a break big time, you ’tards are staying right here.”

The guys rolled their eyes as Pike continued, “Providence? Boston? UConn? Live the dream, baby. Live the dream.” Supremely proud of himself, he took a sip of his milkshake.

The other three gave him a collective
whatever
look.

In just under an hour they crossed the border into New York State, and the guys sat in silence for a while owing primarily to the fact that the universally awesome “Such Great Heights” by the Postal Service came on in the shuffle.

Despite Dylan’s spotty driving record, the Cube felt safe as it raced down the highway. Noah and Dylan had been friends the longest, since kindergarten; but even Pike, who had joined the gang the most recently (in ninth grade), felt like the four of them were a family. And the family felt safe.

They were excited to go off to college, of course. All guys build up college as a utopian existence with insane parties, unlimited drinking, sexually adventuresome girls, and most importantly, unbridled freedom. The freedom to blow off classes if you’re hung over. The freedom to sleep until noon, if that’s what your body’s schedule dictates. And the freedom to pursue interests both profound and mundane. No one is going to stop you from joining the unicycle club or tell you you can’t take Philosophy 355, “The Perception of Color,” if that’s what floats your boat. Maybe deep down they knew college wasn’t really going to be like
Animal House
, but they were still excited to get out of West Hartford and move on to the next chapter in their lives.

Yet part of graduating high school was also pretty scary. It was the part they didn’t show you in
American Pie
movies and on
Greek
. Maybe it didn’t occur to them in this moment as the electronic chorus blared, “Everything looks perfect from far away,” but the guys hadn’t had to make new friends since they were in elementary school. Leaving home was going to be the biggest, most traumatic event of their lives. But right now, in the Cube, with each other, they felt invincible.

The song ended, and soon the Cube was cruising down the Saw Mill Parkway. When they finally saw a sign that read “Manhattan,” the guys cheered.

T
HE GUYS ARRIVED
in Manhattan just after lunch and parked in a garage near Times Square. Sure, it was a little clichéd and touristy but the guys
were
tourists. Plus, even at their age, it was still pretty fucking cool to take in the sights, sounds, and smells of the city.

As they walked down Broadway, Walker was eyeing some really reasonably-priced Rolexes when Dylan literally stopped and turned as four tall, European-looking models walked by. Dylan nudged Noah and soon the guys were admiring the view of these incredible babes walking by. Deep down, the other three felt comforted that there were still women in the world who were out of even the mighty Dylan’s league.

As they turned up 40th Street, Pike noticed a crowd gathered around a folding table and suggested they check it out. It was a handsome young African-American gentleman dealing three-card monte.

“Keep your eye on the lady,” he preached, showing the crowd the queen of hearts amid two black aces. Then he started tossing the cards back and forth, slowly enough so that any idiot could keep track of the queen. He practically sang, “Round and round, there she goes, where she lands, nobody knows.” He stopped the deal and looked up at the black guy in front of him with a fist full of money.