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Over the next few semesters, he had gradually replaced his phys ed and industrial arts classes with courses in business, math, and finance. By his junior year he was doing well with a demanding academic schedule, despite too much late-night carousing. His greatest satisfaction at 'Bama was realizing he had a brain and not just athletic talent.
He exited at Cermak Road into the affluent sprawl of Oak Brook and wound through the side streets until he saw the convenience store on his right. He pulled into the lot, turned off the ignition, and got out of the small, sleek car.
There were five people inside the convenience store, but only two of them women. One was a dyed redhead and he dismissed her right away. The other looked too young to be in a 7-Eleven so late at night. She was standing by the Hostess display chewing a wad of bubble gum and contemplating the Ho Hos. Her bangs were teased, but the rest of her hair was pulled back from her face and fastened at the crown of her head with a silver clip. Even though the evening was warm and muggy, she had both hands buried in the pockets of a high school jacket with "Varsity Cheerleader" written in script over her left breast.
She saw him approaching, and her jaw stalled in mid-chew. A short, skintight Spandex skirt peeked out several inches from beneath the school jacket. Her legs were thin and bare, her feet shoved into a pair of black flats. As he stopped in front of her, he noticed she was wearing too much makeup the way young girls sometimes did.
"I know who you are," she said.
"Do you now?"
"Uh-huh." She took three staccato chews—nervous, but not giggly. "You're the Stars' football coach. Dan—uh—Mr. Calebow."
"That's right."
"I'm Tiffany."
"Is that so."
"I've seen you on television lots of times."
"How old are you, darlin'?"
"Sixteen." Her eyes began to rove over him with a maturity far beyond her years. "You're cute."
"And you look real grown-up for sixteen."
"I know." She worked her gum for a few seconds then looked down at the toes of her shoes. "My folks are gone for the night. You want to come back to my house with me, Mr. Calebow?"
"And do what?"
"You know. Have sex."
"Don't you think you're a little young to pick up an old guy like me?"
"I'm tired of boys. I want to do it with a man."
A video game machine beeped near the doorway.
"I like my women with a few more years on them."
She slipped one hand from the pocket of her school jacket and, moving close enough to him so no one in the store could see what she was doing, brushed upward along the inside of his thigh. "I'll be real good to you." Her hand grew bolder. "Please. I promise. I'll let you do anything you want."
"When you put it like that, doll baby, you make it tough to refuse."
She took h
er hand away as if she were embarrassed by her brazenness and pulled a set of keys from her pocket. "I'm driving my dad's car. Follow me."
The car was a late model Mercedes. Dan kept the tail-lights in view as he drove through the quiet, tree-lined streets into an exclusive residential area. The house, an imposing two-story white brick, sat on a wooded lot. As he pulled into the driveway, he saw the muted lights of an elaborate crystal chandelier glowing through the leaded glass fanlight over the front door.
The house had a three-car garage opening off to the side, and the door on the left slid up. She drove the Mercedes in. He parked behind it and got out. When he was inside the garage, she pushed the button that closed the door.
Her little Spandex skirt hugged every curve of her bottom as she walked up the two steps that led into the house. "You want a beer?" she asked as they entered a dimly lit white kitchen with state-of-the-art appliances and a restaurant-sized, stainless steel refrigerator.
He shook his head.
The lights fell softly on her overly made-up face. She set down her purse and kicked off her flats. Without removing her school jacket, she reached underneath her skirt and pulled off her panties. They were light blue.
