Throw the Cap

  Throw the Cap

  An April May Snow Short Story

  By

  M. Scott Swanson

  “Good friends are hard to find, harder to leave and impossible to forget.”

  - G. Randolf

  CHAPTER 1

  I finished proofing my case study answers for the second time and laid my pencil down. Fifteen minutes of test time remained according to the clock on the wall.

  Proof the answers a third time? Yeah, not part of the plan today. I only needed to pass. I'd given up on perfection since receiving a job offer from Master, Johnson, and Lloyd.

  I couldn't contain a self-satisfied grin. April May Snow finished law school, and I stood at the start of my spectacular new life.

  I completed the last final of the last class of my third year of law school. Unless a future case of temporary insanity hit me, my days of formal education were complete.

  Hey, don't misunderstand. The University of Alabama proved to be a blast. But I bet even Heaven is a drag after the seventh year.

  Despite College having been more fun than my wildest dreams. I needed to start making some money fast. The banks holding my student loans sent me friendly reminders every day telling me they owned a generous portion of any income I earned.

  Knowing the banks' names were basically written on my pay stubs did not make me happy.

  What made me happy? The idea of my future job in Atlanta. I'd worked my tail off the last seven years to land a position with a prestigious law firm.

  I glanced over to my study buddy Martin Culp. When I raised my brow to inquire how he thought he fared, he jigged his hand in the air and feigned a yawn. Martin might be a goober at times, but he's my best friend and a fantastic study partner.

  He tipped his hand up in front of his lips. Drinks? Ugh. I supposed the proper etiquette after completing the final exam of a three-year program would be to celebrate. With graduation in three days, my parents due in, operating on only two hours of sleep last night, I needed to go home, clean up the apartment, and take a nap. After the last seven years partying might 've been my major so the last thing I should need is a drink. Besides noon might be too early to start drinking.

  I winked at Martin and gave him a thumbs up.

  Hey, don't judge. This might be the last time I got to share a drink with my classmates.

  Dr. Rosenstein strode toward the podium. His slight build and hunched shoulders crunched his tall form into one appearing to be small and passive. His rich reddish brown and gray hair curled in thick unruly shocks.

  If not for Rosenstein I wouldn't be completing law school.

  When starting at Alabama, I'd considered following in the footsteps of my father the engineer. By the end of my freshman year, I realized I couldn't hack all the math and science required for an engineering degree. I can do math and science with the best of them. But those two subjects required a tremendous amount of homework.

  Homework really interfered with my underage drinking and partying.

  Clearly, I needed a new major. I'd considered accounting but took too long to make up my mind and all the courses filled.

  In his twenties and thirties, Rosenstein excelled as a high-powered defense attorney in LA. He'd already hit his late forties and become the Assistant Dean of the law school by the time I met him.

  It was quite unusual for a professor of his stature to take on any undergraduate classes. Graduate instructors typically didn't like mixing with the unwashed masses.

  But Rosenstein insisted on instructing one undergraduate class a year. Said he liked to have some interaction with students before four years of political correctness had them regurgitating the clone like dialect.

  He said it also allowed him to recruit students who should consider a law career. That semester Rosenstein worked overtime convincing me I was a lawyer at heart and specifically a litigator.

  In retrospect, I must admit he hit the nail on the head. With each passing year and class, I became increasingly confident about my choice of profession.

  It wasn't like I'd never considered the career before Rosenstein recruited me to the profession. After all my Uncle, Howard Snow was a well-loved and respected lawyer in my hometown of Guntersville, Alabama.

  But without Rosenstein's insistence and affirmation, I doubted I would have chosen a career that required me to apply myself as much as I'd had to the six years since I took the decision. I mean, that was why I'd ditched engineering. Right?

  I felt blitzed before Martin even appeared to have a buzz. He was drinking beer, and I was drinking red wine. One of these days I would learn how to sip my Merlot instead of downing it like shots.

  "I'm going to call for a ride home and take a nap," I announced.

  Martin rolled his head to the right. "C'mon, Snow. Don't wimp out on me. We got all night to celebrate."

  "I'm operating on two hours sleep; I've got to clean up my place before my parents get here and I promised Breanna I would help the sorority decorate the house tomorrow." I narrowed my eyes. "Besides, don't you have some girlfriend you need to hook up with?"

  Martin was dating a cute sophomore by the name of Penny Trickett. I liked to give him a tough time about having to tuck her in at night and make sure she said her prayers before she went to bed.

  I didn't care one way or the other that there were five years between their ages since they were both adults. I only brought it up because I liked to kid Martin and he was fun to aggravate.

  "She's in a tutoring session that lasts until ten."

  "She must be as dumb as a box of rocks if she needs a tutoring session that long. And here I thought you said she was smart. Besides dating you of course."

  "She's teaching the tutoring session."

  Whoops. I blew that one. "As if."

  "What do you care anyway?" Martin sulked.

  I couldn't help but laugh, "Because you implied that I need to stay here as long as you're drinking. There's no way I'm drinking with you until ten PM."

  "Then invite me over to watch TV while you sleep."

  My face twisted in repulsion. "No way."

  He shrugged. "I'll bring my own beer."

  "Drink your beer in your own apartment."

  "But there's nobody there. It's depressing to drink alone."

  For being so smart, Martin could be incredibly stupid. "You'd be drinking alone at my place, too. I'll be in bed."

  His eyes opened wide, "You're really not going to let me come over?"

  I couldn't help but giggle. "No, you idiot."

  "Man, that's a sorry way to treat a friend."

  CHAPTER 2

  My stomach grumbled so loud it woke me up. I checked the clock. Seven PM. No wonder I was hungry.

  I padded to my kitchen. When I exited my bedroom, Martin was on my sofa sleeping off his beer.

  Darn it. I forgot I had told Martin he could come over.

  I examined myself--basketball shorts and a sports bra. I thought about grabbing a T-shirt, but it was just Martin. I could walk nude to the fridge, and Martin wouldn't notice. Besides my sugar level was crashing hard.

  Foraging in my refrigerator followed by my cupboard was not as fruitful as I had hoped. I was moving out of my apartment next week and had purposely let my food supplies dwindle. The logic had been sound until now.

  Great, that meant I was going to have to drag myself back out of my apartment. I scanned the kitchen and living room to ascertain the minimum amount of cleaning required before my family arrived. It wasn't so bad. Oh, who was I kidding? It was a pigsty, and that was before I got to the Prince Harry look alike beer-snoring on my sofa.

  After pulling on a T-shirt, I rocked Martin's shoulder. "Hey. You want to go get a burger?"

  Martin sat up and rubbed the sl
eep out of his eyes, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep. What time is it?"

  "About seven-thirty. You hungry?"

  "Okay. Bubba John's?"

  I was thinking something a little more basic and a lot more conservative on the calories. Bubba John's specialized in fusion burger monstrosities. But hey it might be the last time I ever ate a Bubba John's.

  Bubba John's should sell golf carts. They would make a mint. A golf cart was the only way I could've gotten back to my apartment after dinner. I was as full as a tick.

  Bubba John's caters to the male crowd where quantity was equally as important as the price. There was a lot to be said about it being hard to lay off a half pound burger with double cheese topped with a half-pound of barbecue pork, three slices of bacon, and coleslaw, all for the low price of five dollars.

  I understood the concept that I only had to eat what I wanted. The problem was that--even though I had the right to stop when I was full--I rarely had the discipline to stop when I was full.

  Martin recounted the entire final exam while we waited for our food to settle. Sometimes it amazed me how efficiently his mind could retain the smallest of detail. Me, not so much. Not because I don't have a good memory. I do. It was that my interest button was sort of broke. There were a lot of things I didn't care much about anymore.

  "One thing's for sure. Old Rosenstein is going soft. His tests aren't half as difficult as they used to be."

  "Maybe you're just twice as smart as you used to be."

  Martin's face tightened as he considered the point. "You think so?"

  I dabbed at the condensation ring my glass had left on the table. "Nah." I broke into a laugh as I watched his eyes narrow.

  "I am not going to miss you busting my balls, Snow."

  "Oh, you'll miss me."

  "Honestly, I don't think so."

  I gained control of my laughter. "Are you still going up to DC?"

  "All set."

  It had always been Martin's dream to move to Washington DC and work in and around politics. I used to kid him that he should have gone to an Ivy League school, Lord knows he was smart enough. I thought nobody up there would hire a kid from the U of A.

  Apparently, yes. Last month Representative Weber from the fourth District had offered him an internship.

  "I just hate to think that one of my friends is crossing over to the dark side."

  "I'm not going to the dark side. I'm bringing the light to run all the cockroaches out. You watch. I'm going to bring respectability back to DC politics."

  "At this stage that would be a tall order for God."

  "Well, hopefully, he'll help a little."

  He'd have to. Martin was smart and capable but had zero street smarts. There wasn't a single scenario in my mind where he wasn't swallowed up whole by that city of egomaniacs. Martin was too sweet and always looking to work as a team.

  "You'll have to call me every once in a while, and brag about how many cockroaches you ran out of town."

  Martin smiled, exposing the dimple in his right cheek. "I'll have my assistant call and check up on you in your corner office in Atlanta."

  "That's big of you." I was going to miss Martin. I was going to miss having someone to talk to that I didn't have to worry about how they were going to take what I said. Martin and I were both given to wisecracks, and we were rarely judgmental.

  No, it wasn't as odd as you think that my best friend happened to be a guy. I had two brothers and no sisters. I felt more comfortable talking to guys than I do to women, even my sisters from the sorority.

  I had friends that were female. It was just that sometimes worrying about how they might take my jokes was exhausting. Not to mention a few of them seemed to live for creating drama. I didn't have the energy for drama anymore.

  I wondered who my friends would be in Atlanta. My eyelids drooped. "What time is it?"

  Martin and I went for our smartphones at the same time. "Hello, where did the time go? It's ten- thirty." Martin said as his eyes opened comically wide.

  "Ooh. Penny's going to be mad at you." I shook my finger at him. "No sex for you."

  "That's what she'll be saying on the phone. She'll change her mind once she sees me." He pushed back his chair and dropped twenty dollars on the table.

  "Why? Do you have a Channing Tatum outfit in your car?"

  "Funny. Believe it or not, some women find me attractive."

  I feigned confusion. "Really? Is this with the lights on or off?"

  "Sticks and stones, Snow. I'll catch up with you tomorrow."

  "See you later, Martin."

  As I watched my broad-shouldered friend exit the bar, I wondered if Penny knew how good she had it. She was a lucky girl to have such a great guy already thinking about the long game with her.

  I guess it was lucky for Martin, too. He was the marrying type. Another reason why the whole DC thing had never made sense to me. But you could only point out the obvious so many times to a friend before you started to irritate them.

  He was a smart guy. If he wanted it bad enough, he'd figure out how to have his dream job and his dream family.

  Me? I was going to head over to Atlanta and become the most sought-after corporate litigator in the Southeast. Nah, make it in the country. Why limit your goals?

  CHAPTER 3

  I had passed out on my sofa watching Lord of the Rings for the thirtieth time when my smartphone rang. My caller ID indicated Martin. "Hey, what's up?

  "Penny never showed."

  If it weren't for the near panic tone in his voice, I would have joked about the situation. "And she's not answering her phone?"

  "No. She's not answering my texts, either."

  Not good. A fair number of men I know might forget their smartphones or allow their batteries to run down while most of my female friends would be more apt to leave a hand or a foot behind than leave their smartphone. If she wasn't answering, she didn't want to talk.

  "I'm sure she just turned it off during the tutoring session and forgot to turn it back on."

  "I don't think so. I think something's wrong. I can't decide if I should call the police."

  "Whoa. Slow your roll, Martin. What are you going to tell the police? Your girlfriend isn't taking your calls?"

  "She could be lying in a ditch somewhere."

  True. Penny could also be lying on her back somewhere.

  Stop it, April. She hadn't given me any reason to think like that. "Have you gone by her house?"

  "No."

  It was a darn good thing that Martin was planning on going into politics. He would've stunk as a prosecutor. "Martin, if you went by her house and saw her car there, you would know everything was okay."

  I heard him exhale. "You're right. I could go by and see if she's home. Her phone might be on the blitz. It not that unusual. Right?"

  I became dizzy as my patented danger radar tingled across my skin. What caused that?

  "Smartphones nowadays are only good for two years, tops. I think Penny's had hers for four years now." Martin continued to ramble.

  Crap. The last of the sleepy fuzz left as I realized why my sixth sense kicked into gear.

  What if Penny was at a girlfriend's house, and they were having a 'No Guys' night? When Martin drove by her house and saw her car gone, he would go into a full-fledged panic worrying that something happened to her. To quote Martin, "Lying in a ditch somewhere." He would notify the police at once, and when Penny showed up the next morning after spending the night at her friend's, she would crucify him for being overprotective.

  A dark thought crossed my mind. What if Martin found a matte black Silverado at Penny's? The truck that belonged to Damien Owens, Penny's high school sweetheart.

  Yeah, the police would be getting a call in that scenario, too.

  I flicked on my nightstand lamp and searched for my sandals. "Hey, Martin, why don't you come by here and pick me up and I'll ride with you?"

  "What? No. It's two in the morning."

&nbs
p; "I don't mind."

  "Don't be silly. I'll drive over there and check for Penny's car and ring the doorbell to make sure she is okay. Like you said, her phone is probably on the blitz."

  My junior year in high school I thought I was in love with Randy Leath. The weekend of the Snow reunion, I told my parents I was too sick to attend. It was a ruse to get Randy and me some alone time for a heavy petting session.

  I had the excellent idea that Randy should park his car down the street at the convenience store and walk to my parent's lake house. That way no nosy neighbors would know he was there. Possibly Damien Owens knew the same trick. What would happen then if Martin went to Penny's door tonight and Damien opened the door?

  That could get ugly quick. The police would be even busier in that scenario.

  "I don't think waking your girlfriend at two in the morning is going to endear you to her."

  "But how will I know she's okay?"

  As I mentioned before, Martin would be an abject failure as a prosecutor. "Dude. If her car is there, take a walk around it. If you don't see any fresh dents, you know she wasn't in an accident and you know she's home. Tada! Your girlfriend is safe and sound."

  "That's why I call you. Thank you."

  That made me smile. I was glad to put my friend's mind at ease. But I still had little tingles on my skin. I just didn't know if it was usual nervous energy over my friend's situation or my psychic abilities waking up. "No worries. Are you sure you don't want me to ride with you?"

  "No. I'm good. Besides, you've got that thing with Breanna at your sorority in the morning."

  A wave of frustration rolled over me. Why couldn't I have told Breanna no? "Thanks for reminding me. You call, I make you feel better, and you make me feel worse. How does that work?"

  "You forgot, didn't you?" I could hear the laughter in his voice.

  "No. Yes. Man, I'm sick of decorating. I must've decorated for a hundred parties in the seven years I've been at this campus."

  "Aw, come on. It's your last rite of passage. Imagine you're in jail and this is your last time to go before the parole board. Only the board is your sisters, and you just need to show them who the master is one more time before you're free forever."