The Final Lesson Plan (16 page)

Okay, so I didn't really read it. I started to, and it sucked. It was a book. I ended up reading the Spark Notes and renting the movie. Fine, I didn't read the Spark Notes either. Those things are just as long as the goddamn book.

I gotta say, I hate the way this author chick is making me look. She's making me out to be some dumb asshole. Fuck her. I'm about to graduate from college for Fuck's sake—from THE Ohio State University—do you know how hard it is to get in there these days? I'm not saying I got in with my high IQ and all that shit. But I am saying that I'm going to finish and graduate with a degree. People didn't see that shit coming. I'm no fucking moron.

So, I don't like to read; who cares? So sue me. I just don't want to sit around and read books about people doing shit that I should be doing. I want to be the one doing it—not reading about it. What's wrong with that? I do play a lot of Madden and watch a lot of
Duck Dynasty
, but that doesn't make me dumb. Just because Cling sits around and reads doesn't make him a better guy than me, a better date, or more worthy of Janelle. I've got a lot to offer.

Anyway, this is my story, my turn to tell you about my date with Janelle. This is the one opportunity I get to make y'all realize that I'm the one for her. I really am. I'm going to start by saying that she looked as hot as shit. I could've fucked her right on her front lawn the second I saw her, but she was talking to Jasper when I pulled up. Man, that dude's got some bank. He's one of those guys that just by looking at him, you know he's got money. I'm going to look like that someday. Soon actually.

When Janelle got into the car, her shorts rode up on her thighs, and I could hardly concentrate on driving. She's got the smoothest fucking legs; they feel like, I don't know, soft. They're always so shiny too, like she just rubbed lotion or oil on them or something. Well, I was staring so long at her legs and thinking about her thighs that I started to get hard and then swerved and almost hit some douchebag riding a bike. Get a car, asshole.

"Briggs, are you okay?" she asked me.

I was so embarrassed by the fact that I almost ran some dick over, I just said, "Yeah, I'm just horny." Why the fuck would I say that? She just laughed like it was the most normal thing I could say. "Are you excited?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah, but I don't know where we're going," she said, looking over at me with her big green eyes and beautiful smile.

Fuck, I was getting hard again. You guys don't get it. This woman, this same woman has been getting me hard for years now. Do you have any idea how many nights I jacked off to her picture in the yearbook? Sometimes when I thought about the fact that she was seeing me, dating me, fucking me, whatever you call it, I had to remind myself that this wasn't some high school boy fantasy and this was the real deal. I made a pact with myself that I was not going to fuck this up. I am not going to fuck this up. It's my new mantra. Don't fuck this up. Don't fuck this up. Don't fuck this up.

"It's a surprise. You picked the right clothes for it too," I said, loving what she had on. She was wearing running shorts, tennis shoes, and a tight t-shirt that made her tits look incredible. She had all of her hair back in a ponytail. Janelle looked good enough to eat, and I planned to do just that. A couple times today. I loved the whole athletic girl look. Chicks try so hard to look hot and sexy, but they're really just fucking fuckable when they're themselves.

Just as I was about to get on the highway, my phone rang. I looked down. It was a call I needed to take, but one I necessarily didn't want to take with Janelle in the car. I let it go to voicemail as my hands gripped the steering wheel harder, turning my knuckles white as I did so. Then, my phone alerted me to a text message and to another.

"Aren't you gonna get that? Someone, other than me, obviously wants you," she smiled teasingly at me.

I looked at the messages, slowing down considerably. After reading the third one that came in, I said, "Sorry, we've got to detour." I didn't want to get Janelle into my personal shit, but I had to handle some stuff.

I made an illegal U-turn, speeding up after the turn. "Briggs? What's going on? Where are we going?" she asked, sitting up, looking around.

"To my house...I've gotta take care of something," I said, feeling the anger overtaking me. I was going to fucking kill my brother.

We pulled up to my house; my parents were gone, out of town for the Fourth. I knew better than to think I could trust Tate alone for the day. I'd only been gone for 30 minutes. "Wait here," I instructed, as I got out of the car, leaving it running to let her know that I wouldn't be long.

I barged into the house and all eyes were on me. "Get the fuck out now!" I screamed, as five thug-ass guys bolted toward the door. Tate had pot and coke laid out on the coffee table with some sort of fucking scale and money everywhere. "Take your money with you!" I belted as I picked it up and threw it out the door. The losers all scrambled to get their money.

"Fuck you, Briggs," Tate said, coming straight at me. I picked up as much shit as I could off the table and sprinted toward the bathroom, scaling right over the couch. I slammed and locked the door and started flushing everything I could find.

As Tate was banging on the door, he repeated over and over, "You don't control me; you can't control me. I'll fucking kill you, bro." The screaming and banging went on the entire time I was shoving shit down the toilet.

Then, it was silent, which stopped me, making me wonder what he was doing. I flushed the last bit of what I'd grabbed and took a few breaths when I heard him say, "Hey Mrs. Flowers." Flowers? Feeling my veins turn to ice, I opened the door and stared straight into the faces of Janelle Garrity and Tate Alexander.

Then Tate continued, "So it's true; you like extra dark meat?" he asked, walking toward her. I could tell at that moment that he wasn't just dealing; he was on something too. Mother fucker. He walked over to Janelle and circled her like prey, flipping her ponytail, like some jackass son-of-a- bitch. That was all it took.

I was on him in seconds, and his body was against the wall, with his throat in my hand. "Listen here you little fucker, I will fuck you up so badly, you'll wish you'd never been born." I threatened.

"Too late," he gasped. "Way too late."

"Briggs! Let him go," Janelle yelled. "Let him go...RIGHT now!" I looked over at her; her eyes were watery and pleading with me. I couldn't resist her, couldn't deny her anything. Releasing my grip on him, Tate shoved me back.

I grabbed him again, but Janelle moved my hand. "Stop honey, don't," was all she said. I stepped back, letting him have room.

"Why the fuck did you bust in here?" Tate asked, glaring at me. "I just lost two grand, thanks to you."

"Tate, are you fucking serious?" I asked, not knowing the kid in front of me. What happened to that little kid that I used to play football with, the one who looked up to me, drew pictures of me? "If you need money, then you know—"

"I know; I know. Just ask big brother Briggs," he said. "He'll take care of it; he's so great. He'll fix it all. Well fuck that shit."

"What the Hell is that supposed to me?" I asked, walking toward him.

Then, Janelle came between us and said, "Briggs, will you please wait for me in the car. Tate, sit down on the couch." Janelle placed her hand on my chest, her eyes pleading with me. "Please. Both of you…please!" I looked at Janelle, then at Tate. He shrugged and slumped down on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table, kicking his scale and pipe as he did so.

"Janelle, I don't think—"

"Doesn't matter…go!" she instructed, pointing toward the door.

After 30 minutes of Janelle being alone in my house with Tate, I started to get worried when I saw the door open. They both came out with smiles on their faces. Tate hugged Janelle. Then, she waved at him as she started back down the steps toward me. Tate watched her leave, staring at her every move. I wanted to walk right up there and pummel his face, but knew that she'd be pissed if I did.

"What'd you say to him?" I asked following her back to the car.

"Not much. We just talked," she said, getting in and buckling her seatbelt. "He's a good kid."

Tate Alexander was not a good kid. Everyone knew that. I knew that. My parents knew that; every teacher in the school knew that. When I told her so, Janelle smiled sadly at me, nodded, and said, "I think that's the problem, Briggs."

Man, was she good. Janelle Garrity was a bleeding-heart teacher through and through. If anyone could get through to Tate, it would be her. "So…? Are you really not going to tell me anything that went on in there?" I asked, probing her for answers.

"There's nothing really to tell; he's a lost teenage boy, who's very jealous of his superstar brother," she said, looking at me intently. "This one's a piece of cake—nothing I can't handle."

"Janelle, I—"

"It's fine Briggs; we've all got our shit," she said, grabbing my hand. "Tate is going to be okay. I can guarantee that." I squeezed her hand and kissed it. She was extraordinary. Here, I just wanted to beat the thug right out of him. Janelle planned on loving the thug out of him. We'd make a perfect pair. We fit together perfectly.

"Well, we've been driving down 71 South for a while now," she said, scooting closer to me. She smelled un-fucking-believable. "Are we going to Columbus?"

"You'll see," I said, putting my arm around her, holding her closer to me. I never understood why guys wanted SUVs. They're probably making up for small things in other places. I'm just saying, you never see black guys with SUVs. Our cars don't need to be huge machines; we've got huge machines in other places. Plus, with a big SUV, you couldn't hold your lady close while you drove. Couldn't touch her; rub your hands up and down her bare arms. Shit. Getting hard again. I used to have a fucking lot of self-control. But with Janelle, she turned me into a pussy.

As we pulled own Lane Avenue and passed a local bar, Janelle was on the edge of her seat, pointing things out to me. "Oh my God, I almost got arrested right there, but Char persuaded the cop to let us go," she said, explaining how she got busted for underage drinking in the parking lot of the stadium. I didn't ask what Char's method of persuasion was. I'd been around Char enough to figure that one out on my own.

When we entered the parking lot of the Woody Hayes Center, Janelle looked at me incredulously, and said, "This really isn't open to the public, Briggs." The Buckeye football team practiced indoors at the Woody Hayes Center, and it was pretty much a sports shrine to all OSU football players.

"Let's just say, I have some connections," I said, before walking around to open the door for her. I do that shit. My mama would bitch-slap me if I didn't open doors and shit like that for chicks…for girls. She'd slap me for calling girls, "chicks" too.

I showed Janelle all around the Woody Hayes Center. She was as impressed with me and my connections as she was with the entire place. I felt like King of the World—or just of Columbus. Then after the tour, I said, "Okay Babe, let's get sweaty."

Looking around and giggling, she said, "Here? Now?"

Laughing, I said, "I love how you think, Nelle, but we're working out…like legit."

"What? We came to Columbus to exercise," she asked her face fill of shocked disgust and disappointment.

"Well, it's like this, one of the best dates we've had yet, started with yoga, because 'you said so.' This time, I say so," I argued, pulling her close me, looking into her green eyes. I knew that women loved my eyes; I could pretty much get what I wanted from a woman with my eyes. But Janelle had no idea how sexy and tempting her green eyes were.

"But we'll get all gross," she whined.

"Nothing those showers can't cure…those big, empty showers," I said, raising my eyebrows, then winking at her.

I've got to say; it was the worst, mother-fucking, most awful workout I'd ever done. Usually when I work those machines and push my body to the limit, I feel great the entire time. This was the worst plan I'd ever had. It was hard to do the leg machines, sit-up incline, and abs machines with a fucking woody the whole time. Watching Janelle's leg muscles as she spread her legs, pushing the machines in and out, caused so much pain and strain between my legs, I could've done her right there in the workout facility, not caring who the fuck watched. Then, when she laid down, using her arms and chest to lift the weights, her tits looked so goddamn perky and hot. I physically could not take one more torturous second.