Dry Heat

Part I

Joey

Chapter 1

3 p.m. – Saturday – November 20, 1999

Roadrunner Park – Phoenix, AZ

The gangs were always stealing the nylon basketball nets, so the park director had replaced them with galvanized steel chain, which rattled obnoxiously on every bad shot. Joey frowned as his jump shot clanked off the front rim.

“Your shot sucks today, Joey Blade,” Mallory said as she bounced the ball back to him.

“Your boobs are distracting me. Maybe it’s time you started wearing a bra.” Blonde, with a pixie cut that framed her cute little-girl face, Mallory could have passed for a twelve-year-old if it hadn’t been for her huge breasts. She was fifteen, two years younger than Joey, and they had been playground buddies for ten years. She lived with her creepy father in a rundown brick house a block away and escaped to the park most afternoons.

“Come on, concentrate, Mr. All American.” She lifted up her sweatshirt, flashing him as he took his next shot. An airball.

“Aargh.” Joey chased after the errant shot, hip-checking Mallory as he grabbed the ball. He dribbled out to the corner and swished a turnaround jumper. “Yes! No distractions that time.” He pumped his fist.

Mallory smirked. “Better get used to it. You’ll have plenty of distractions when you’re in Lala Land next week.”

Lala Land.

Joey was out of time. He had to make a decision about his trip to USC and he had to make it now. He clanked another free throw off the rim.

“What’s wrong, Joey?”

“Dutch.”

Mallory scowled as she bounced the ball to him. She knew what Joey’s dad was like. Dutch Blade was an unfiltered, heart-on-his-sleeve guy. He could chew someone out one moment and be hugging them the next.

“He doesn’t want you following in the immortal footsteps of O.J.?”

Joey gave her a look. Mallory was always a smartass. Three weeks ago, in his last high school football game, the Shadow Mountain Matadors had defeated Apache Junction, last year’s state champion, 28 to 24. Joey rushed for 264 yards and scored all four touchdowns for Shadow Mountain. After the game, he was contacted by every school in the PAC 10, all promising that he would have a bright future playing football for their university.

He thought it would be cool to have all that attention, but it was really like trying to date five girls at once. Everyone insisted their school was the best choice for Joey. He didn’t like disappointing people and he didn’t want to string anyone along, so he quickly narrowed the search to USC in Los Angeles and the University of Arizona in Tucson.

He dribbled out to the foul line and took another turnaround jumper. The shot was a foot short and wide left.

Mallory scampered over and picked it up. “You can’t blame that one on me.”

Joey tried spinning the ball on his index finger, but he couldn’t keep his focus. “Dutch grew up in Tucson. He loves the Wildcats. He’s always said that if his folks had had the money, he would have gone to U of A instead of Vietnam.” He glided out to the corner again. “Ball!” he shouted. Mallory fired a chest high pass to him and he swished a fifteen-footer.

“Maybe he just wants to keep you close so you can help with the family business,” Mallory said with a faux expression of innocence.

Dutch had started Blade Engine and Crankshaft when he returned from Vietnam. With the help of Joey’s mom, Callie, it had become the largest engine rebuilder in the southwest.

“My dad thinks anyone who goes to California just wants to be a movie star.”

Mallory tilted her head and squinted at him. “You’re pretty cute with that curly hair and those girly eyelashes. I could definitely see you in the movies.”

“Shut up, Mallory. This is serious.”

“What do you want to be when you grow up? A football player? Or are you planning to take over the business?”

Joey gave her the finger. They’d had that discussion before. “I want to be a writer. USC would be better for that, but to my dad, a writer is even worse than a movie star. He doesn’t think it’s a real job unless you’re sweating.”

“So, your big problem is deciding between a free education in California or Arizona?” Mallory arched her eyebrows, suggesting that was the kind of problem most people would love to have. Then she grinned and said, “You want to come over to my place for a glass of ice tea?”

“Uh . . .” Joey stared down at his feet. Mallory was cool, but he couldn’t stand her father. Donny Stewart worked at Blade Engine as a mechanic doing engine installs. He thought he was some kind of comedian. He was always telling stupid, dirty jokes and his delivery sucked. He acted like Joey was disrespecting him for not laughing his ass off. Joey knew Stewart resented him because he was the boss’s kid. Donny Stewart was an all-around creepy guy.

“My dad’s running the install center today.” Mallory said. “He won’t be home for two hours.”

“Ice tea sounds great,” Joey said.

***

Joey sat down on the yoga mat on Mallory’s screened porch. She brought out two glasses of ice tea and handed one to him. “This is my workout studio,” she said. “You okay with the floor? I can get you a chair.”

“No, this is good.” He took a gulp. “Thanks. I really sucked today.”

“You were definitely not Joey Blade, All-American.”

Joey shook his head. “It’s Solita’s fault. She came home today from ASU with her latest boyfriend. I’m pretty sure he’s gay. We all sit down for a special family lunch and she tells me how cool it is that I’m visiting USC next weekend. She wasn’t supposed to blab that because I haven’t told Dutch yet. She did it just to get a rise out of him. She’s been fighting with him all her life.”

“Solita’s cool. I wish I had a sister who could tell my old man to go fuck himself.”

Joey shifted his position, trying to get comfortable. “I love Solita, but she makes it so difficult. When Dutch heard about USC he blew a gasket. Told Solita that no kid of his is attending some granola-munching fag school. I thought her boyfriend was going to faint. So then Mom got angry and told Dutch to watch his language. Callie Blade’s the only person on earth who can stop Dutch in his tracks. He got all contrite and told the boyfriend that there was nothing wrong with granola.”

Mallory laughed so hard she snorted tea through her nose. “Your family meals sound like so much fun.”

“After dinner, Dutch drags me into his office and starts giving me the hard sell. Telling me all the reasons I should go to U of A. “Closer to home he says.” Joey shuddered. “That’s not a good reason. He tries to tell me it has a better football program, but he knows that’s not even close to true. So then he tries the career angle. Tells me I’ll make better connections. But that’s only true if my career is working for Blade Engine, and that’s never going to happen. So then – get this – he says the weather is better. The weather! Can you believe that?” Joey took another gulp of ice tea. “I say, ‘The weather, Dad, come on.’ And he says ‘It’s a dry heat. Very comfortable.’”

Mallory laughed again. “Dry heat. Your dad’s a trip.”

“He even tries reason. Says the Wildcats need me. Says I’ll get lost in the shuffle cause USC drafts ten tailbacks a year. But the USC recruiter compared me to Marcus Allen. Probably because we're both six two and neither of us are speedsters. Not like O.J. Hah! They never talk about O.J. That’s what happens when you fuck up as badly as he did. Anyway, Dutch wants me to go down to Tucson for a meet and greet next Saturday and I want to go to that USC game.” Joey paused to catch his breath.

Mallory giggled.

“What’s so funny?” Joey asked.

She set her ice tea on the floor and cupped his face in her hands. “You talk too much.” Then she tongue-kissed him. Joey’s heart raced. He had ignored most of the stories, but he knew Mallory had a reputation.

He slipped his hands under her T-shirt as she tugged down his cargo shorts. He unsnapped her shorts and she wiggled out of them. They lay together on the mat, their naked bodies pressed together. It was really going to happen.

Joey tried not to show how nervous he was. He rolled on top. He wasn’t sure how to proceed, but Mallory helped him. Joey came in ten seconds.

“Sorry,” he said, embarrassed.

Mallory was cool. “That’s okay. Have another ice tea and I’ll bet you’ll be ready for another round.”

He was, and it was much better the second time. Afterward, they spooned on the yoga mat. Joey cupped her breasts and tried to think of something to say, but he’d already talked too much and he couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t lame so he kept his mouth shut.

Mallory scrunched around and rolled on top of him, pinning him to the mat. “You don’t have to say anything, Joey. That was nice.”

“Nice?” Joey said. He was hoping for more than nice.

“Nice is good.”

As he was heading out the door, Mallory wrapped her arms around him again. “I think your father is right.”

“About what?”

“Arizona. That’s where you should go.”

“Why?”

“Because then we could do this again. Have more nice times.” She giggled and Joey had to admit it sounded appealing.

Chapter 2

Six Weeks Later

8 p.m. – Friday – December 31, 1999

Shadow Mountain High School – Phoenix, Arizona

Joey parked Dutch’s pickup in the teacher’s parking lot at the far corner of the school property. The millennium celebration bonfire wasn’t an official school event so there would be no teachers using the lot tonight. All the other high school kids were parking in the visitor’s lot next to the football field, but Joey didn’t want to park there with this ugly truck and its stupid BLADE ENGINE & CRANKSHAFT logo plastered on the doors.

The little S-10 was a ’93 with over six hundred thousand miles on it. The engine was tired—a Corolla passed him on the way over—and the cabin stunk. Even after Joey hung three New Car Scent tree deodorizers on the rearview and under the visors it still carried the smell of dried sweat, cigarette smoke, and fast food from the three dozen drivers who had used it to deliver parts over the last seven years. Blade Engine was only using it now for emergency deliveries, so his dad let him drive it on the weekends. It was most definitely not a cool ride, but better than walking.

Wendy Chang, Joey’s new girlfriend, refused to ride in it. “It’s disgusting, Joey. We’ll take my car to the party.” Wendy’s father was some big-time lawyer. For her seventeenth birthday, he had given her a ’99 Infiniti J—a lady car for sure—but a nice ride. He had met Wendy at a party at Lookout Mountain the weekend after Thanksgiving – the week after he had been with Mallory. He hadn’t seen Mallory since that day, and he never saw her in school. He felt like he should say something to her about Wendy, but he wasn’t sure what.

Joey walked past the tennis courts and entered the football field at the north end. He hadn’t been on the field since the big game with Apache Junction. This morning he had called Coach Meyer at the University of Arizona and told him he was signing the letter of intent and would be heading to Tucson in the fall. He couldn’t go against his father’s wishes. Tomorrow he would let USC know of his decision.

Today was his eighteenth birthday. He was officially an adult. A man with a full-ride scholarship. Even Wendy would be impressed. A sex breakthrough was definitely a possibility tonight. Thanks to Mallory, he wasn’t totally inexperienced. He felt a little guilty that he was grateful for that.

The bonfire was being built just beyond the south end zone near the pole vault pit. Lua Tupola pulled up towing a hay wagon loaded with wood and scrub brush. Lua was a giant. Six foot four, two hundred forty pounds. As nose tackle, he anchored the Shadow Mountain Matadors’ defensive line. Lua had corralled a bunch of younger kids to unload the wagon. A swarm of them were streaming from the wagon carrying armloads of wood and brush for the fire.

Wendy, with her legs tucked, was perched on a hay bale. She was wearing white jeans and a powder-blue cashmere sweater. Her long black hair was gathered into a silky ponytail and designer sunglasses wrapped the top of her head like a tiara. She reminded Joey of one of those Disney princesses, except for the joint she was smoking. She spotted Joey and gave a little finger wave with a coy smile he hadn’t figured out how to read yet. TJ Grimes, her pot supplier, sat next to her on the bale holding a pint of Southern Comfort.

TJ was a scrawny, freckle-faced redhead with greasy long hair. He moved to Phoenix a year ago and lived with his older brother, who everyone said was a serious drug dealer. He was a year behind them in school and had the hots for Wendy.

“Joey!” TJ jumped up from the bale. “Just keeping it warm for you, buddy. Have a seat.”

Joey ignored TJ and sat down next to Wendy. “Sorry I’m late. You know how my mom is.”

Wendy draped her arms around Joey’s neck and ran her fingers through his hair. “I would die for those caramel curls.” She feathered a kiss on his neck and whispered in his ear,

“I was worried that you’d stood me up on your birthday.”

“Dude, it’s your birthday?” A trickle of a Southern Comfort slipped down TJ’s chin. “You’re eighteen? Congratulations.” He held out his pint. “Take a hit. Get your birthday buzz started.”

“No thanks,” Joey said. He glared at TJ, hoping he would get the message to disappear, but the kid was too drunk to notice.

Lua was walking toward them. The giant Samoan moved with the grace of a big cat. “Happy Birthday, Joey Blade. Come here, brother.” Lua’s voice, like his walk, was smooth and light and soft. He held his arms opened wide. Joey couldn’t help but smile when Lua was around.

Joey stood up and braced himself. “Don’t hurt me, man.”

Lua wrapped his meaty arms around Joey and lifted him off the ground. “Don’t be a pussy, Blade.” He gently set Joey back on his feet and turned to TJ. “Hey, Grimes, I hear you got good weed.”

“Absolutely. Primo Mexican Red.”

Lua scowled. “Don’t shine me, shitbird.”

TJ rubbed his hands together. “It’s true. I got a connection in Rocky Point. I’ll give you a dime bag for five bucks. New customer special.”

Wendy handed her joint to Lua. “Try it, Lulu. It’s good stuff.”

Lua took a deep hit. The joint disappeared between Lua’s huge thumb and forefinger. “That’s tight,” he said, his eyes watering. “You got a bag in your little purse there?”

TJ clutched his fanny pack protectively. “No, I don’t carry. It’s in my car.”

“Okay. I’ll take two of those discount dime bags.”

TJ screwed up his face to complain, but then thought better of it. “Okay, ten bucks. Special favor. Don’t tell no one. Come with me. It’s in my car.”

Lua had turned to look at the crew building the fire. He shouted at the group, “Hey, dipshits, start with the small stuff.” The fire was more smoke than flame.

“Come on. I got lighter fluid,” TJ said.

Lua scowled. “Bring it to me. I gotta go help those numbnuts before they smoke us all out.”

TJ shrugged and started to settle down next to Wendy on the hay bale. “You better get Lua his grass before he throws you on the fire,” Joey said.

“You don’t want to disappoint a new customer,” Wendy said.

TJ was all attention when Wendy acknowledged his existence. “Yeah. You’re right, Wendy. I’ll be right back.”

He did a quick about-face and stumbled into a face plant. The pint of Southern Comfort bounced out of his hand. “Goddammit.” He jumped up and grabbed the bottle. It was unbroken, but most of the whiskey was gone. He took one last pull from the bottle and tossed it aside. “Fucking Lua. Screw’s me on the price and now he wants free delivery.” When he saw Joey staring at him, he blanched. “Just kidding, man. Me and Lua—we’re cool.”

Joey stared at him walking away. “Grimes is too stupid to be a drug dealer.”

“I know,” Wendy said. “But he does have good weed.” She kissed him with feeling. “Happy birthday, babe.”

Her lips tasted faintly of strawberries and Joey’s heart raced as her tongue probed teasingly. He tried to prolong the kiss, but she pulled back. “Hold that thought. I have to talk to Lawrence about something. It won’t take long.” Lawrence Darville was Wendy’s old boyfriend. She pushed herself up from the bale and kissed him again. “Keep an eye on the fire.” She grinned as if running off to talk to her ex-boyfriend was a big joke.

Darville had pulled into the student lot in his new midnight-blue Toyota Tacoma. A super cool ride. A model year 2000. Fresh from the factory. He stood in the bed of his pickup wearing a leather bomber jacket looking disinterestedly at the kids building the bonfire. With his mop of white-blond hair and his pretty face, he looked like a young David Bowie. When Wendy approached, he jumped down and climbed into the cab. Wendy got in the truck.

Damn thing probably still had a real new car smell. Joey thought about his piece-of-shit S-10 with its sweat and taco smells and its duct-taped upholstery. He didn’t blame Wendy for not wanting to ride in it.

Wendy and Darville had been on and off all throughout high school. Even after she dumped Darville and started dating Joey, there were more than a few times when she had run off to talk to him about something. Joey didn’t really care. He never expected to date someone like Wendy. He wasn’t in her league. She was a snob, but she was beautiful. Exotic. She had a right to be stuck up. She was a preppy, like Darville, but smart like all the Asians. She applied to Harvard and didn’t even bother with a backup school. Her bigshot old man told her there was no need to. Harvard was his school. End of story.

Joey Blade wasn’t part of her long-term plan, but that was okay with Joey. Wendy would be a perfect end-of-the-school-year girlfriend. In the fall she’d go east and Joey would head down to Tucson. He didn’t need to hassle her if she wanted to gossip with Mr. Too Cool. After the bonfire, some of Wendy’s preppy friends were having a party at Darville’s home. His parents were in Cabo for the New Year. Joey would have preferred making out over at Squaw Peak.

It was a typical Phoenix winter night. Once the sun went down the temperature dropped quickly. Lua had managed to organize the fire-builders and the dark clear sky was now dotted with sparks. Joey shivered. He should have worn something more than his flannel shirt, but all he had was his varsity letter jacket. He was so proud of that jacket when he earned it as a freshman, but now he felt silly wearing it. Maybe that was Wendy’s influence. She wasn’t into sports. The wind was whipping up and he was getting cold. He was about to get up and move closer to the fire when he spotted Mallory walking toward him.

Damn.

When he started dating Wendy, Joey forgot about everything else. He should have at least called Mallory. Now as she headed toward him, he felt like a shit.

Mallory looked different. Serious. She sat down on the bale next to him. Close. The heat of her body took the edge off the chill Joey was feeling.

“I saw your girlfriend leave you to go talk to her old boyfriend.” She was staring at the fire, not looking at him.

“Yeah. They’re still friends.”

Like you and me. We’re still friends, right?

She was still staring at the fire. Not looking at him. “I’m pregnant.”

A simple declaration, delivered as information, not an accusation.

Joey’s throat tightened, like some invisible specter was choking him. Even if he had known what he wanted to say, he wouldn’t have been able to get the words out. He hesitantly lifted his hand and covered Mallory’s hand that was resting on her thigh. “Uh . . . what . . .”

Mallory flipped her hand over and squeezed his hand. “I’m keeping the baby. I don’t want anything from you. I’m not telling anyone that you’re the father. I just wanted to let you know. You have a right.”

A father. A baby. . “You . . . you have to tell someone,” he said. “I can help.”

Mallory jumped up from the bale. “If you tell your parents, my father will find out and he will make trouble.”

“Are you sure?”

Mallory looked fierce, not angry. “He’s an evil man,” she said. Her voice level, but determined. “I will never tell him. Now go enjoy your bonfire. And your beautiful girlfriend. Everything will be fine.” She turned and walked quickly away toward the parking lot without giving Joey a chance to say anything more.